A Dance Beyond Dawn Poem by Harun Al Nasif

What if it be morning, or not!
I don't wait for any morning.
I know every morning is
the illusion of novelty, a mere mirage.
Whether I like it or not,
it arrives every day
only to greet me with a grimace!

If the name of the morning was afternoon;
even noon, evening, or night
It would not cause any big difference.
Yet to meet its insistant demand
it has to be called by the name morning!
and to be adorned with the new title!

Greeting the same sun
over and over again means nothing.
If possible, I would soar today
to any new solar abode and explore
the nooks and cranny of the galaxy.

Does the sun not witness my incapacity?
I never yearned to feign joy
looking at his flawed face.
Yet chanting the monotony of time
I drag on my horrid hours.
Lest I skid away from the orbit,
I go round aligning the axis
to the fiery ring of time
with an urge to ascend flambuoyantly
to the firmament with a cosmic fling.