Ink Of My Life Poem by Yawar Maajed

I became the pen, in hand I took,
Wrote and shattered, a single poem was all it took.
One creation inked, then a life spent broken,
My existence in one verse spoken.

I became the pen, in hand I took,
Wrote and shattered, a single poem was all it took.
One creation inked, then a life spent broken,
My existence in one verse spoken.

My destiny, my fate, by His hand was traced,
Unpunctuated, in hurried lines encased.
Crossed no T's, dotted no I's,
A script of life with unfinished ties.

On the canvas of my existence, He etched,
Paths untraveled, mountains unchecked.
Routes impossible to trek, peaks too steep,
A daunting landscape, in my life's keep.

Would they ever grasp your life's epic tale,
As you painted it, in every detail?
If I were to script it from where I stand,
Would they believe, would they understand?

Venture out, and discern,
If the morning sunbeam has something to return.
On the canvas of the flowing water,
Did it pen a tale, an unwritten charter?

Yawar harbors a hopeful sight,
To read of sunrise in the book of night.
Longing for the dawn's news to arrive,
In the thick of darkness, his hopes strive.