Oh friend, soften the bitterness of your tone,
I am too sensitive, too easily overthrown.

I still recall soft footsteps on the sand,
Leaving home behind, afraid of the unknown.

Through burning deserts I travel, restless, worn,
I tremble at shadows, at trees newly born.

Perhaps it is written—this endless roam,
Even a mirage makes my heart feel torn.

Time itself unsettles me, heavy and vast,
My weakness shows—as though I flee from dreams at last

By: Mohammad Ifrahim Butt

April, 2019

Recorded …..