Glitter but not gold. (Poem)

Somewhere sometimes
In the midst of solitary night ,
Where the darkness seemed,
To pinch, I stood there, ’cause
I like the comauflaging night.
Where it blankets me beautifully.

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Street lamps there it stood with,
Shimmery pale light; yellow,
It harboured insects for a night
And in dawn lied dead, parallel.
It wasn’t moon; it implied.
Lights that are coolness to eyes
Are Not from raging fire, burning.
But the eternal light, guiding.

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Chimera of darkness often resides
Among silhouettes of angelic light ,
Orderness is not innate dear.
Feasible is it’s opposite;
And is certainly spontaneous.

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Still left are some reticent bays,
Often their shores are unsure
It looks hazy and misty
Like a rose with thorns.
I won’t tread, its flashy lights that
Blind the eyes and numbs the brain.
It’s when i see the sunshine.
Until dusk I shall move forward.
Till dawn I will scathe my shore.

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Still in search of the catharsis
Where pain vanish and murk disappear.
Often shattered pieces of glass smiles
When I see them lying on forlorn floor
Not flaking in a least bit,
Tattered are there life and so they are.
But Dulcet are their reflection to the sky.
Their gloom; vacuous in abysmal din.
They were not gold but their glitters were pure.

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!ns¡ght. Aquib.