Poetry

I try to figure you in the vanishing faces
Of imaginary clouds passing before me
As I look through the void of time
And find among its rubble
A tattered note of a discarded poem
Written hastily by an impatient poet.
 
I try to hold you on the precarious perch
Of my eye’s watery boughs
Encased in the orb of yesterday’s dream
From where I guide not your journey
Along the inner maze of faith and felony
As is the future dwindling in haste.
 
I try to revive you from the ashes
Of a dead star on my gloomy sky
Bring you into glowing existence
Conjure heaven amidst fanned ruins
And discern life in the fleeting instances
Before getting sucked into black hole of death.