*- -*detached*- -* Poem by Wasan H Ibrahim

Whether life is a blessing, whether life is a curse,
Whether we march in progression or in regress,
I feel nothing of its glimpse, I don't feel attuned,
I don't sense its tempo, hypo or profound.

We try our hard to get the joy of life
We struggle, we scuffle, we in strife,
Nothing remains in the lees of the vision or sound
But a pillow that welcomes the exhausted mind.

We seek out love and for the pearls we dive,
We fight loss and frustration in this frenzied surf,
Defeated, the heart stops tapping, tranquil and detached,
The soul yearns for itself when it away has passed.