A Void, We Call Life

A Poem

Photo Credit: wladislaw-peljuchno-k1Go4ziImrc-unsplash

When words fall short,
I sit in the world’s shadows.
Watching the world through my window,
I rejoice absurd songs.
Life spills in laissez faire economics,
consuming dreams to rust.
Forgotten blue and white banners flutter.
Wind sighs in Red Oaks,
echoing the doleful cries of a lonesome.
The song rises:
a kite lifted by a gust
of ethereal wind.
Through my window,
humans look like pieces of unknown debris.



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Muhammad Nasrullah Khan

Muhammad Nasrullah Khan

His short stories are well-recognized internationally for his unique prose style. nasar_peace@hotmail.com