by
Dovishka Muskaan Shaib
At crossroads between dusk and dawn,
Hoping to catch the first light of a sunset at dawn,
Stars seem to be at stake for all,
While hours feel like midnight at noon,
A purpose with an endless cause,
Making clouds feel like they were never known,
And the moon visible only when claimed and called,
As only the sunset at dawn,
Would be the only that would behold,
A pure bliss better than gold,
Being the utmost of all,
Yet is being called,
A goal with no purpose,
A dream with no cause,
Times felt like noon in the night,
A feeling that most could not abide,
Yet it was named and known,
Yet it was claimed and called,
As a melancholy at midnight.
You have one life, be yourself, who knows that you being too much is the light of someone else.
Poetic Delicacies from Mauritius 