Mahak Malik

Locked Windows Open Chasms


Frosted glass feigns a light that rapes distortion

within the abyss
The world has had this before, in many ways and upon many lands
Representing eras now shut deep inside treasure chests

Waiting for memory loss to encroach upon
Lost loves, lost ties and depleted hopes
An incarnation of the future shows behind mist and fog
Ships try to soar, yet anchors clutch for masters’ lives
Currents…the torpedoed pull magnifies as a pacific storm builds
Gravity no longer withstands, and wistful passions take flight

Miles away, on a dusty shore lays a quiet lighthouse
Eroded and broken from the hands of time
A charcoal grey sky slowly envelopes the forgotten sunlit hole
Everything untouched by the accompanied retinue of the storm
Since this storm alone, is in the name of two star-crossed lovers

She switches the lighter on, he blows the flame out
All alone in the deserted pharos watchtower
The darkness comes alive and the darkness fades
All alone in the deserted pharos watchtower
Exhalations touch skin; inhalations hungrily draw air
All alone in the deserted pharos watchtower

Long held beliefs shatter with jolted energies supplied
Murderous applications occur between time and
In between them themselves
Yet cuffed by an invisible hindrance

Aware of a key that failed
Logic and comprehension quite destroyed

Mindful that the brakes will refuse their duty
Only contentment may be found in achieving unity

The effort is risky for all good things end
But they try for the sake of momentary bliss

It almost failed them, the wooden log cast once ago
Upon a lonely ocean, it strayed far but kept afloat
Through high tide and low

Ethereal whispers forgotten, begin screeching monitions
Nymphs aplenty gather, to announce ostracisms
Conscience places a mandate to part this rebellion

To no avail, to no avail

A window is unlocked somewhere near this broken hearth
Hearts rich in perpetual blood, minds unaware of existence
Curses signify the intensities of the eves that pass
Luminance dances around, amused in those outstretched
Far from being rescued and eons away from such want
It is no longer a priority; bemusement has resigned

In hope these children of time and circumstance
Continue to tread, continue to be, continue to prevail
But what will become of them
Once all the chasms are shut in the end?

(They’ll find another.)


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