Iron Melts In Furnace Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Footsteps striving,
broken ladders,
trapped in devoid voids;
Vendors on streets,
Rumpled sorrow on veneers,
and deprived sap drips.
The concealed lull,
and expression of dull;
Engulfed in cold,
How does it end,
and the soul escapes mind,
Sometimes:
Lost tales on faded posters,
faint signatures left.
Beloved ones wait,
and warriors depart;
Awake and divergent,
clashing identities:
There ain't any escape,
manipulations and deceptions.
Shepherd looking for lambs,
hounds sniffing,
Hunter crafting the spear,
cripple crawling,
thieves stealing,
and the murderers,
saying it aloud,
Chance or choice.
The graveyards mourn,
and the cities weep,
There's a preacher in soul,
tenderness in absurdity:
So it is,
Iron melts in furnace,
Poured in clay mould.