Crimson

Stories, Pt.3

 

Mesteerian Dawn 2

 

I have stories with sunsets and dawns,

crimson lights of ends and beginnings.

the sky is ablaze in a myriad of fire shades.

 

In my mind,  it was me at the center,

not the sun. I was the scorching sphere

radiating fiery flames as I rise and fall.

 

I was no such thing as light or hope.

I burn. I incinerate.

More than anything, I reveled in that thought

that I was in solitude. All alone.

Nothing dared to orbit my flares.

I was at peace.

 

The golden orb was now halved by

the horizon line and I was back to

the man who sat on the hill

to watch mere shades of the lonely color

that he will never be.

 

23/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif

Picture taken: [06:35] 04/08/2009

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