Sounds like a dream in the making
silent whispers ringing through the night
sparks of silver, unobserved
threatening to die, without a fight
They reach out, spread out, or maybe not yet,
not sure, unsure, not within sight.
What is this i see, can this be true?
my chosen path, my fate not right?
The fireworks have started, too slow for now,
nonetheless they have, you’ll soon see the light.
Maybe all this is a dream, a fancy,
wishful thinking at its peak,
just might dissapear after the end of my night.
Another day will come, and burn my fancy away,
or it might stand there, cemented, fortified.
Can this be real, the loss of hope?
that refuses to go away, stubborn, defied?
The heart cries, in shame, in guilt, and in regret.
Decision why do u have to be so unsure and untimed?
Or maybe my fancy needs a hearsay,
encouragement and words of comfort,
to prepare itself for the stumbling unforeseen flight,
And maybe that flight will fly,
Take me to the stars,
Who knows my dreams might come true.
– Mariyam Khan Baloch
1st October, 2011