A summer afternoon ferments

Dust rises in the city
Like a rebellion
And yet in the bylanes
A summer afternoon ferments
Quietly bubbling up under damp mold
And leaking pipes.

There are corners so dark
The sun never reaches.
Only the rotting stench
Tells its dwellers
That the season has turned.

We do not look for mercy or hope in rain
Life is bottled.

If

If truth would know

What truth looks like

Would truth not want to

Dress like a lie?

If life ever saw

The grime on its face

Would it not seek comfort

In death's embrace?

If light knew it's lost

And the darkness infinite

Would it not hide

In the corners of a night?

If I knew myself

And you could see you

Would you not hate me

As I would hate you...

An ignorant slave

To life's delights

I hold on to my wrongs

And name them right.

~Saba