Lost Session Poem by Quaid - Uz- Zaman

Archives or museums we love
and fact sheets, check lists and data processing
as we do;
with inputs that bring output we hardly
conceive and interpret,

rolling over this life - a great idea; memory full of
junk files,
Always starting and opening a new and deleting the old
ones
always loading........
waiting........
and forgetting the art of living.
Or a new learning of a
new age throbbing with a
rapid pulse
amygdala and hippocampus stormed
there is darkness nowhere, engulfed by the violant and strong light thrust upon;
over estimation and
new currency being widely circulated,
against the self- preserving instinct,
we are fond of this new enterprise,
burdened with the news feed
of stories,
skipping or gliding toward another world.