Heartless tyrant,
merchant of sadness,
the void in your chest
is filled with dust, darkness and defeat
...
December ignites the bemoaning of skies
and sorrow of the earth
slogs through time,
to reach the spirit of God
...
Before a cloud started fleeing from your sky
And before the night robbed you of all your stars
You were more than a scream lurking
beneath the howling of wolves
...
Aamir can be reached at aamirelectra@gmail.com)
Little Valley Of Fresh Hopes
Heartless tyrant,
merchant of sadness,
the void in your chest
is filled with dust, darkness and defeat
Your machinations are old,
they shall die
Our hopes are fresh,
they shall grow
A billion torrents between our lips,
shall outnumber your number
We the generation of dreams,
shall defeat the slumber
Clear text