By Ahmed Latif A ballerina in a music box spins herself into a frenzy, A pious, dervish-like frenzy. Drain the light so the children could play. Without bias, the darkness lingers like an insistent guest
Dining on exquisite moments, Proletarian and effervescent moments; Moments that will evaporate and waft, Elevate and flow, Into the inverted grand canal of time. Only to be lost before the ballerina comes to a rest. Comments are closed.
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