The Other Sense

A Street of hell cowardly shy's,
From this place where darkness lies,
Nightmarish thougths of memory so tortuous,
that at its own face, fate cries.
The old bootlegger in the garden picks,
The bones of those from river Styx,
Gathers as he may the thoughts within,
looks upon the days of gold 'n gin,
Long before the darkness in his chest,
consumed his heart, and nerve bereft.
She said "Thou shall be damned rest you give your soul,
to the mistresses of this place untold,"
So he rest his soul in her palms that may be,
the pluckings of an innocent life's solitary tree.

For all that love is in eternity, he thought,
a drop of tear in an ocean of fire,
peace in death and sanity was all he sought,
what burned him was his own desire.
For while in life's golden arms,
thy were a prince, a warrior, a god for some,
invincible, immortal, a shadow of gold,
lest he knew what would end his immortal run,
not power, an arrow, a heel, and a beautiful soul.
For not always were the heavens so quiet,
not always did the rains corrode,
His memory held one end in a well so pious,
But his thirst quenched never by his will abode.

"My silence is all I hear now,
deafening my senses with voices of past,
Of the times of war, and the times with you,
Eternity was the only end I knew,
My silence is my song for you."

"Darkness is all I see now,
shadowing the light of memories within,
memories so bright, memories that were you,
I lived a dark lie, And I died one too,
my darkness is my reflection for you"

"mercy is what the gods gather for me,
mercy - chants for me the world full of sin,
mercy shall be granted to those who ask,
but can mercy commit to my demon within."

ZOHEB QURESHI
October 2nd, 2006.