The Dream Of A Weaver Poem by Ashik Mahmud

Oh my dreams, favourite dreams-
do not return, never try even;
Never come back, I am done with you
You have surfeited long enough.
Neither I can sleep, nor I can stir up myself.
Neither I was asleep, nor I was awake.
Rather I am drowsy- Drowsy clicks better
Because You lose yourself then- my favourite Dreams.
Be gone for a while, until I gain the paradise lost,
You have done enough to ruin my clocks-
To the abstruse and arcane mists,
To the foggy creams, from solid to gasoline.
Thus, my vows come with epiphanies;
Epiphanies of light, dark and shadow,
Epiphanies of Icarus and Doctor.
I will not search you no more in my deep sleep,
I will not be conscious of you in long hangover.
I will be pretentious, yet much honest-
That you do not exist, As I have a terse market list.
Austerity has knitted my vows in the stern urban
To Kindle the core of my bucolic soul and
To recuperate the Dream of a Weaver.