Fractals Poem by Freen Ebrahim

Fumbles. Falters. Stumbles.
Curled fists, in paroxysms of torment,
Fears unfurl, dissipating into the raven cloak of night,
Searching, I stare at the sky,
Ruminating in the fractals of hollow questions,
Morosely answered by the bitter reflections of one-self.
Drowning in the sodden dregs of sorrows,
But only in vain,
They seem to rise to the surface.

Seeking sanctuary till rivulets of the moon,
Seep into my eyes. Blind.
Coursing through my web of veins,
Till the nib of pen incrementally bleeds,
Blear blue,
And smears the sullied page.

Shards of a fragile life rest in the palm of my hand,
A fleeting existence which ebbs,
Like the lacklustre glow of once lit embers,
Diminishing, into the tumultuous transience of this world,
And as the thin films of my skin, shed like dew,
Surging from the billowing ashes
Holograms of hope reform and renew.