Sadiqullah Khan


It Rains Back


We disappear, we perish,
The silent wings carry us.
There is a fountain, in the ocean.
The ascension steps are easier.
Once the ground of a thousand years,
Of age is covered. There is no respite.
As we lift the lid from the pot,
The water is evaporated into steam.
It goes nowhere, it rains back.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
February 11,2013.

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Saturday, June 07, 2014

Topic of this poem: love and art


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