This one was lost
To the night's seeds
To the hopes of flowering moons
With him die the cosmic ambitions
Sight of stars and rising suns
He is said to have flown like an invisible bird
He or she would make little difference
We loose
And we again go through many births
I do not remember whose birth I am
So no other will remember whose birth
I shall be
Except that like spirits with powers
In myths
Some shall live longer than many others
This is a grim circumvolution of existence
No matter
All the lies that we tell ourselves

Islamabad
15/6/2010

Sadiqullah Khan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-tell-ourselves/