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Oct 2018
Wisps of sound rise and melt in the air,
The high and low stresses, the articulatory stretches;
Linger, vanish, manifest, proliferate – digest.

A humming note strokes the whims of a heart,
Through tapestries of tingling blade of tongue,
It slides into existence and existence it wears till it obliterates.

Wisps of sound rise and melt in the air,
Like Chinese ring daggers they curl into
the abode of your consciousness again.

A mellifluous phrase carries the calm of Ravi
as it glides through the hollows of ears,
Now in your memory, now forgotten,
Now revived, now devised,
Now it journeys towards the ripples of your utterance,
And now it fiddles with your own conscience.

A wisp of sound falls over the skyline of a tongue
It transforms into a soulful voice,
And arbitrarily makes sense!
Hiba Aamer
Written by
Hiba Aamer  23/F/Pakistan
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