Sojourn

For hours and hours, I contemplate
my inner being,
of how by reality this world;
hath torn apart between hatred and desire
my age-old love of worn-out time,
that in the mellowing year of spring, 
e'ery groaning heart to a close afraid,
of eyes so blind bereaved of light:
ah, from all too weird my shipwrecked dreams
e'ery falling star of violet blues that melt in summer's prime;
too, but by counting more in prayers,
of bewitching looks her most ardent desire to think on thee,
of sheer scope unto my darkened days more bright,
fills the page against the evening sky, too deep for woe,
that forfeited dark in Hades of a star,
of whom, they say, hath fled with fedora of yore dream.

(C) Naveed Khalid