My eyes bear witness
to the sorrows of this world.
Where I heard them laugh
like a drain.
I saw that laughter
fading out, afterwards.
I saw them snug
and cozy into their beds.
And, then, I saw their beds
turning into tormented graves.
I asked them what,
what holds their joy?
They said, "riches."
There, then, I have seen
their edifice go out in smoke.
I saw them holding tight
their little hands.
But, alas, then I saw grown hands
deserting old of them.
Yes, my eyes bear witness
to the regret for this world.
I saw them praising their Lord,
saying hymns, voicing psalms.
Then, I peeped at,
but saw no gof in their hearts.
Mirage is this world,
I said to my awed self.
How with a single face
can he hold hundred others?
Then, I saw my faith
losing upon this world.
No, I don't belong
to this powerless power.
This false fort,
standing on its last legs,
awaiting its befall.
© Maria Shah