Carrying the nocturnal charms of a nomadic bride,
the pretty and the wild,
the Night, in labor, is about to give birth to a new day-break before her present death,
the dawn will swallow the moon like a tablet in a gulp
Sanity has less space to breathe in such moments eterne
and
I am ready
to risk some new madness for coming up to the expectations of a new day
even the skin tight springe wrapped around me, cannot smother me
Believing, the trickiest of the labyrinths has its key way out, and I’m to search for mine
My quill is claiming its rights on me
i surrender
i never played chess
and my rival is a champ…
By: © Shahzia Naqvi
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