Mystery Poem by Naveed Khalid

Should I but of such human vulgarities be part
To play my life's stage to a crippled countenance?
Of sheer scope to die in abundance of thy most high deserts,
That my peers would dispel me with thy unattended presence,
Away from all odds, all vicissitudes of the sky, my love;
Not least to show thee my pride by prejudice more despised
Than if from a bowl of stars you drink this wold at helm of affairs,
Some vulgar paper to rehearse in nurslings of immortality:
I fain would bring to the page e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind,
All too well writ in my mind ere thine unweird eye,
Unaccounted for what I unfold from yellow pages of history
To a falling star, of another rent at midnight lease in winter cold.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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