Oneself feels like
a blurry sphere
of swirling colors
and radiant brilliance
flying along
the cloud of life -
dark and ominous,
barely visible,

streaking across the galaxy,
floating between the stars,

sometimes sverving
into the life
and out again
and swinging in
and out again
sometimes oscillating
sometimes orbitting
mostly yearning
to be in it
all of the time.

If only the sphere
could look back and see,
that suspended in that
dark and cold
and invisible cloud
the only streaks
of warm colors which
make that cloud
worthwhile at all
are in fact
tints of themself,
inks from themself,
imprinted forever
onto the universe.

-Abdullah Alam