By Athar Mudasir
The dark night seems dead world,
The fragrance of night blossoms seems to attract moths to sustain it's creed.
Owl hooting from the Chinar trees seems warning thy presence, watching thee steps, that you are not alone.
How critical is thy affairs of jungle the closed eyes are equal to vision.
Treason and lies have become accord,
Deaf and blindness is the virtue of dark world.
Once the night called for peace and rest,
But tonight, fear and cohesion has veiled life,
Every slap of wind blows the kindle off.
The door is knocked every night by an invisible man,
The silent steps in vanity snatch thy sleep.
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