Here I am again
Finding my self
Lost
Lonely
Stranger
Roaming
In a city which is growing older
Replete with pain and sorrow
Gulping the toast to death…

Here
Every thing is cold
Even the faces…
The sky is naked
But, with wind and frost…
Mirrors play the role of deception
They reflect not the images of sorrow

I hear naught
Nor do I sense a thing
But freezing wind coming from
A far way cemetery
Blowing
The tree of joy…
And the ghost of fear
Invading dreams…

Out side
The old man prepares the carriage
While the master is outraged
He attains not all the women
He desires…

Behold!
I live in a time which is not mine
Nor residing in a home which is mine
When the passion of senses freezes
I ignite the fire of inspiration
And smell the scent of myths and tales

Thus I behold naught
But the rainbow coloring my sky
And my bird bringing me the glad tidings…
Nor hear the bell of misery
Ringing in our streets
Thus I drink joyfully with my muse
A toast to life

For Lo!
You are my desires and ideas
I breathe you with every breath of air
And sip the honey of my poesy
From your breast

Here evenings are long
And poems are dull and dry…!
Thus, let me rest in the realm of poesy
And dream happily of touching the face of god…




Copyright © Munir Mezyed