Behold

You can call me a prisoner of hope,

I wait imaging and doing what needs to be done rather than cope,

Upon a star near to me yet to others far is a hook so large holding a rope,

A rope you can see if you are lost at sea in the dark,

The smell of fear is what invites a shark,

A vision upon a spot where all lost shadows make their mark,

I hold to climb;

For such actions that reach out strengthen time,

I hold o climb,

And I decide to befriend Time,

Not because I am weak or strong,

But for now my soul tends to float where floating would belong,

As waves neither short nor long,

But a stream of ups and downs made onto every right and wrong,

And light may become a shade for eyes to fade as they behold,

As deep stories are told,

Words are sold,

And meaning becomes warmth worth in the cold.

Time is as a fire both wise and bold.

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By: Laith Aktham Qusus

20/9/15