The sun sets and the darkness proliferates.
It is not in an instant.
It slowly shrouds like a pall,
Thickening, each moment,
Becoming impenetrable.
But the darkness within
Has been eternal,
Neither presaged by a setting sun
Nor in hope of being followed
By a mounting one.
I languish in it.
Not that I lack the nerve
To surmount it.
Rather, I wish to remain so.
It is quite convenient.
05th January 2009
00.03 am
asma bahrainwala
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apathy-17/
