Helplessness

The bird of heart,
Swooped and swooped,
Exhausted in flights,
Its wings are now conked out,
For branch to branch it nestled,
Farm to farm it picked the grain,
Place to place it slaked hunger,
The world is a delusion,
Flights plucked out its feathers,
No plunge proved resultant,
All around death dances,
Time worn out the extremities,
Who should in the mortal world,
Contest wrestle against time.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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