Prancing where there are no dreams,
The sun howls its glorious brightness,
Roars its light on the Earth in beams,
Threatening to consume all darkness.
So darkness, she hides in unlit zones,
In corners, crevices, under unturned stones,
Confined in indefinite prisons that roam,
To hide where, by light, remains unknown.
The light sets itself a pedestal and throne,
It grants the dark its inferior role,
The sun blinds us and gleams on our souls,
It fills our heart after it burns in a hole.
When light is jealous, it casts its sparks,
In anger, it burns and frightens the dark,
We are left exposed, scorched in light’s flames,
Darkness wasn’t wrong, Afterall,
It was light that made her prey.
By Sharaf Momen