By Faridoon Shahryar
In this game of one upmanship
Aren't we deceiving ourselves;
The business of silence
Can be counter productive,
When the bloodshod eyes
Are hell bent on revenge
Maybe from their own weaknesses,
The wind knives through
The trembling breathlessness
Sleepless eyes blinded by tiredness
Darkness digs its claws
Deeper into an abyss of nothingness
Eyes pierce into the
Oasis of tepid brightness
When the road seems endless but its not,
A flicker of hope
Lights up in a heart
Determined to beat on,
When the Real stops being daunting,
The imagination takes over,
The Journey has just begun...