Tajalla Qureshi
By: Tajalla Qureshi
All were fated to find her roads to glory
All were picturized to pick her up with a story
Yelling becomes dwelling deeper with delight
Ashes arch into golden pearls in ages of night
Rarely jingles of rejoice and recoil, keep her ride
She senses the melody and might, seat at her side
Chosen to choke the intellectual sublimes
Praised by the Heavenly Power to create rhymes
Certainly, a levander that desires a delightful sight
From the ground of vultures, she shifts towards light
One that is aware of her transparency, creates her
Right between the twilight, she emerges as a flur
Yet! Fate finds her innocence and immense urges
Knitted knots assume her to deem the submerge
Her stream of slashes evokes her above-love
Destiny decors her promenades to provoke the dove
Wisdom she hauls, Beauty she applauds
Blow the blaze, Beat the bubbles to make her broad
She, a dove from Heaventh, a soul from the seventh
Rise and revise the glimpses of warm hearth.
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