On Dejection
by MazHur


Poor Life, what beset you, you are so dull, so quiet
Like a barren lamp burning without light!
Not a tree to shade you from the fire of the scorching sun,
Nor a wall to cling and wail at time's tragic fun;
Existence turned into a dark mine of salt abound,
A sea bereft of sweetness to the thirsty around;
Days as dark as the stalled chime of the clock of time;
Nights as destitute as a beggar in Hatim's clime;
Alas, life would be so estranged in its hustling commune,
Loneliness would prevail over the silence of its deafening tune.