Pen's Hum: What Is To Come Poem by Mahfooz Ali

As the night falls,
I sit to write,
my pen whirs,
images of cheering crowds
and jeering faces
flow through my mind.
Sometimes I feel grand
like a pupa becoming
the butterfly.
The roar of cheering crowds
will give me purpose.
And, there are times that
I feel I am a star
being sucked into a black hole,
ripped apart by harsh world
until I am no more.
But for now, as
the falling night blends
with the pen's hum
to become a soothing music,
I sit back in my chair
and simply dream
of what is to come.