The Mystic’s Muses

“How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?” – Khalil Gibran

Oasis of Life


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By Irfan Shah

In the desert of a life aflame
another year-like day
drags its tired feet
to reach a frosty mist-valley
and embrace a century-long night

Where…

to fuel my thought-mills,
I will toss around in bed
and count
every foggy star
every single scar
every standing soldier
every fallen angel
and every day in exile

Where…

to feel like a stranger
in a land I live
a land that needs me
and showers glaring rewards
on a high interest rate,
I will think of a motherland
that finds little use of me
but loves me..
wants me..
misses me

Where…

to only get
the intrusive ticking of
a clock unfriendly…
and the silent whispers
of snowflakes dancing in dark,
I will try hearing vainly
every frozen prayer
every forgotten lullaby
every sigh for a son
of a left-alone mother

Where…

to recall
with familiar unease
the scribble of a pen
on pieces of wet paper after paper,
I will imagine
the hesitance and rage
of hurriedly written imploring words
in a first letter to the most
misunderstood of all fathers
and the wishful thinking
of an idealist youth
it encompassed

Where…

to pledge again
gifting each letter she wrote me
to flames of fire
the very next morning,
I will think of
every letter I had penned down
before promising myself that it would be
the ultimate last one ever
to the darling-that-be

Where…

to wonder about
the fate and extent
of life’s all new creeds..
of amity’s all new seeds..
I will think not only
of all the ‘glitter that was once gold’..
but of that One Friend
who remains engulfed and ignored
in mist and mystery
of all snows of reason
of all flames of passion

Where…

while fearing to find
yet another circle
of an year-like day
and a century-long night,
I will pray and plan
to break every unknown chain
to escape every trap unseen
to leave every riddle of a dream
that guards a self-imposed exile
in a frosty mist-valley
in the desert of a life aflame
and kiss the saline-pearled eyes
of my loving mother
after returning finally
to the bleeding oasis of life
that my loving motherland is.



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