Untitled Poem # 21…

by Talha Minhas

I’ve kept myself up at the last hour,
Just to know what lies ahead…

I’ve kept myself at a distance…
Just shy of the truth.

But all this,
These efforts…
Are mere excuses,
To reach to you…
Where you are… but achievable!

How am I to know
The realities of your existence,
When I am so blinded by my own?

I want to think beyond my limits,
I want to expand the very limits that limit myself.
Let the pages become one giant ground,
For time and space to permeate them…
Through its web of uncoagulated bits,
That slowly liquidify it, but not quite thoroughly.

All this,
These efforts…
They are mere excuses,
To reach to an undisclosed location.
A location that stretches beyond words… my words,
And emotions, and imagination…

I want to hear that strange shriek,
That echoes around in my head…
I want to be inspired by it.
I want to be led by it.
I want to give it a chance to make me feel.
It is so old and grey,
Its fragility has encompassed me.

Let me not talk of the times,
That I had wished had been pleasing.
Let me not be reminded…
That I had been a fool,
An idiot…
To have forsaken my only chance to be happy.
I am, now, apologetic to my plight…

All this,
These mere efforts,
Are nothing more than languish to my idle hours.