It fluttered through the frenzy,
An incantation of earnesty.
Miles apart it stood,
Whole and rattled,
As I floated among the earthen layers,
And the winter sun,
Alas, losing its enmity to me.
To what wonder it rested,
The dead below us and the dying among us.
As if light could penetrate us all,
Like a harrowing reality infecting the masses.
Maybe they’re right,
For I stumble upon your silenced ode.
A heartache suffocated or a sob concealed.
I seem to fathom the restlessness,
The bitterness and the grief that follows empathy.
But I am an iota of ashes,
Disintegrating yet gradually.
It comes to me like a subtle murmur,
The gleam in your eyes,
Along with the smiles on our faces,
Lost in the wilting verdancy,
As if I faded away in the dusk,
Awaiting but a resounding no,
To an endless urge of extinction.
– Imaan Siddiq
The Genres of Life 