At the brim of the day
When the sun bows his head
And the darkness penetrate into the light,
Many hearts may weep,
But the acceptance is universal
That the souls shall not rise
Unless a new sun shines.
The determination to walk into the dark
Is a rarest of the quality that a soul possesses.
But the pains that make them do such a deed,
The calls that they receive from this dark.
Some in the sorrows of a lost love,
Some to find a way out of their drought
Yet some play it as a game,
But the happiest man who profits
Is the tomb who shall get him for ever.
©Anees Rahman
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