Friday, November 12, 2004
How are we, likedead flowers
hung upon pendulums.
Our beginnings, directions
breeds, materials
our ends
our limits--all differ.
But in those moments
when our times meet,
don't we dream together?
Of dreams of living?
Perhaps.
Perhaps, we understand very well-
dreams of dead flowers
living.
Dead Flowers
Bilal Tanweer
Mina at 5:44 AM