When I go skirting all alone
Across the seas; across the dome
When thoughts are caught in spiders snare
Trapped in sorrow and void of fear
Methinks time to head out fast
Across the dunes; across the gulf
All my life is picture of folly
Framed within sweet melancholy
When I lie dreaming under starry roof
Thinking it gone; my spiky youth
When I lay gasping under nights ken
An irksome fear afrights me then
Methinks time to pack and run
Across the desert; under toiling sun
Wish my life was picture of jolly
None so sour as melancholy
When I am surrounded by people known
I am a beast; a monster grown
When I build castles in the air
Hidden from view; of various stare
Methinks time runs very fleet
Must taste the world with my feet
Wish naught but my own companee
No joy so sweet as Melancholy
Methinks I hear, Methinks I see
Methinks the world is a fantasy
Methinks of love, Methinks of meaning
Methinks with all; my hearts feeling
When I go wandering on my own
I sigh, I grieve, making great moan
A thousand spokes assail me at once
Rich the world is; in happenstance
And as I lay supine on my bed
The furies flee I no longer dread
Cos the Lord himself has me bless
Crowned my soul He with happiness.
(Wasim Shafi,
poetry head,
stuck in clouds,
June 2010)
