The drops of seclusion

By Athar Mudasir

In the finest glaze of day ye hold thee gaze
Shinning like a wrath, Thunders blazing thy breath
The drops of seclusion pampering thy illusion

To look forth ye wiped thy eyes,
To hear the cries of seclusion,
Whispering in thy vanity.

The gorge below blows thee sanity
The dark shades in thy dark hours shades thee glazes of sweater wowed with strings of beholden grace.

How long will thy seclusion last,
The string torn asunder and lost in seclusion.

Thee tiny sparkles of heaven might fell into the gorge of seclusion,
The drain vanishes the tree of seclusion,
Holds its roots to sink thy into ocean of vanity.