By Faizan Bashir
In the dwindling light of day’s flight,
Where the citron hues fade into the dusk, the
moths,
Oh! The dark winged moths flint in a silent
dance,
The dance; the dance, the still dance of
twilight’s final breath.
When the night’s frigid hands, with spider-like
fingers, long and blue,
Frame a tapestry of fear it clings quietly, and
yet our rebellious spirits gleam through
brightly,
A momentum of resilience we have learnt.
Though shadows may engulf the world we
know,
A flame, a flame of hope within us, ever
glows.
Past the growing gloom that strives to smother
the light,
We grab at hope, Oh! The hope; our beacon
through the darkest night,
And in the soft glow of dawn’s promise,
Where shadows play with light,
We find strength, the strength to face another
day.
Though shadows may engulf the world we
know,
A flame, a flame of hope within us, ever glows
So let the light unroll its wide, consuming
feast,
We will meet it with hearts flaming bright, not
defeated in the least,
Inside the deepest darkness, despair might
assume its rightful place,
But the ember of hope stays,
Oh! The ember of hope stays.
By Faizan Bashir
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