I'll not speak to thee of thy unattended presence,
That in trash and tinsel hides,
This world in nurslings of immortality;
Oft goes unchecked by so gross a love
Of my country rhymes!
That to a land of fairies abides:
The milkyway of a harvest moon,
Ploughs through the fields, hath found a child's skull;
Nor I swear I'll examine in detail of fossil records,
Unaccounted in pebbles and stones e'ery pelted grave,
Say, Lord, I call thee by thy name:
The presager of mine eye more eloquent!
Where hibiscus grow in the twilight of day-dreams
To unending night in silent hours of soliloquy.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, October 10,2014 7: 30: 52 PM
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