Darkness Bids A Bye

Of spoils of whom I tell
In the lapse of which my memories fell,
I recall a blurry grey voice
Which tasted ice, for fire to suffice-
“What watchful eye the predator wears
Incessant intrusions of memories engage”

The answer to his statement I do seek
When moon is shy and night at peak.
An impasse and intricate cogs
Muddle my sight of prayer,
Then a voice which sounds far but seems near
Screams loud for me to hear:
“Long have I been in a ceaseless epoch
Burning in the rivulets of reveries
But then a voice so abhor from my abyss I made
To thwart my appeasing forlorn fate”

I feel such voices every night
When time’s nimbus cloak lullabies my sight.
Outside the morning sleeps- Away from light.

by Irfan Bashir

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