"farman" poems
Having said the last word
on the fate of the world,
when the prophet walked back
from the seat of gods,
in dust at eventide,
a contemptible piece of rope,
that lay in his path,
triggered him back to his beginnings.
'Snake!', hissed the very seed of man in him,
Only moments ago, fearless and firm,
he had uttered the word that had within it
the beginning, the middle and the end
of everything he knew,
and everything he didn't,
and now he stood
frozen with terror.
He stood frozen with terror,
until his feet, knowing better,
led him back to the doorstep,
where mate and child waited,
in dust
at eventide.
Farman Yusufzai
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
Having said the last word
on the fate of the world,
when the prophet walked back
from the seat of gods,
in dust at eventide,
a contemptible piece of rope,
that lay in his path,
triggered him back to his beginnings.
'Snake!', hissed the very seed of man in him,
Only moments ago, fearless and firm,
he had uttered the word that had within it
the beginning, the middle and the end
of everything he knew,
and everything he didn't,
and now he stood
frozen with terror.
He stood frozen with terror,
until his feet, knowing better,
led him back to the doorstep,
where mate and child waited,
in dust
at eventide.
Farman Yusufzai
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC