Who chooses the dreams we remember and the ones we can not

Lubna Irfan

Who chooses the dreams we remember and the ones we can not
Who sows hope and reaps love in our hearts
And calls time a circle
And space a part of it
And who stores the fragrances 
Of fallen flowers 
And fallen civilizations 
In a jar of glass, 
Opaque with salts of sea, 
To be reopened and poured
Into the fire of knowledge
Over and over again
And who decides the moment
Of a child's first smile
And the moment where whites turn black
In the eyes of a man of time and age
Who chooses the names we would remember
The moment before we die
And who decides the truth
And the Questions that grow from it
And who begins at the beginning
And begins at the end
Who chooses the dreams we remember and the ones we can not

3 comments

  • Rich look, plus wonderful quality piece. Good word play. Keep going.

    Priti Yadav
  • It seems the author is hallucinating.
    This poem is a mix of confusions at all ends. and the word “And fallen civilizations” is completely unfitting in every context.

    Shahzad
  • Such amazing lines. Such symmetry of thought. I love every single word of this poem.
    Such beauty.
    Much wow.
    Keep writing more, Lubna!

    Chandrima Pramanick

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