By Muhammad Umair Shabbir, Pakistan

When the sun goes down,
I slip back into consciousness.
Glued to my bedroom's window,
The sight outside, a flash-back,
A grey-scale picture withered in time.
Haunting my mind, enchanting,
Cool breeze caressing my skin,
My eyes jammed on the big, ol' tree.
I lose my senses to the dreamy vision.

When the sun goes down,
It's time to sway away…
To the sweet music of life.
The silvery moonlight, illuminating
The world where only I exist, alone.
My throat tears as I scream
And the Heavens tremble;
The squeal of my conscience
Mutes the moans of my soul.

When the sun goes down,
The show must go on…

The Smoke Of Past
The smoke of my past still prevails today
My dress, My character, My conscience
All contaminated by this smoke
The dreams seen in past
Today they are wrapped in this smoke
Always tried to exhale this smoke from life
But its dust particles have trapped me
The world cannot see my guilt on my past
Everybody thinks my past will pollute them
Oh God! Please tell me
How can I make your people understand
I am sorry what I did in my past
I cannot change it nor remove it from my life
Now I am on right track but still they satire on me
After millions of attempts
Oh God! Your people will not forgive me
They keep reminding me
Till my death I will be in this smoke
No matters now noble I become
Now I pray that after my death
To get a life in such world
Where I am free from this smoke
God forgives you for a tear
But this world doesn’t
Now I only hope that at my death bed
Name of God is on my lips
Tears of repentance in my eyes
Smoke of past now becomes a way
From which I can travel to other world
Now my past is a matter between me and God
I hope God will forgive me.
                                      SARAH SHABBIR