Future Poem by Waseem Sherif

I see his figure, ghastly and appalling.
erected tall and sharp like an obelisk.
His face pallid, only hollow eyes distinguished
As if they carry the center of gravity.
Eyes like endless tunnels. I can't see the light.

Like the gloomy days of a cold winter
he trudges his way to me

He stretches his arm, an invitation to days unlived.
"Take my hand" he said,
a voice as destructive as an earthquake.
Shaking, I rest my palm on his
an arcane cold takes home my hollowed chest.