By Harsimran Kaur

The womb; it’s dark,

prevails the living in dimness

the breathing,

quickens and flutters

perfect world it is; dulcet and dark

anomaly, the fear is

in propinquity of such black

the conscious reckons

decrepit it is,

 in the hollow grid

epithet so dark

the mind slayed,

by the solipsism, so stark

the mighty rules

the weak subdue

so dark is the mind unkept

the conscious, so noble

survive we all,

why harm?

aren’t illusions dark?

why embark?

the impressions, dark

leave an incessant mark!

dark, evil is

diabolical in disport

an eldritch, so profound

the sword it carries

of deceit and depredations,

at the back is the scabbard

it runs amok

bacchanalian in bebop,

a ghost or a gargoyle

death eludes the bogeyman

consumed by dark, ad infinitum

the darkness, moon lights up

still the night, usurped

devours the sky,

the potholes of stars

then arrive,

heads look up

far away, the eyes meet

can it turn into light?

a humble plea!

ordained the time is

to dispel of the curse,

the light meets the ordinary

some karma to be reimbursed,

dark and light, they play

the cycle of birth and death,

in abjure, doesn’t evade!