A Pristine Life
The dearest dream, a pristine life,
Such a thought abode a gleam fanciful,
No soul shall see it, no hand can touch
Let a thousand tongue sing of it in praise.
The reality is, here my avarice
Deludes my days equitably
The turmoil born of this dichotomy
Now conveys a banal charity.
Ransack ensuing is indeed offending,
It is ravaging the reality!
© 2017 Shafqat Mushtaq