Ensconced in most mundane events are keeled

Ensconced in most mundane events are keeled,
Unspoken clues that a quaint, unruly flame
Derives for incandescent lust to yield
Allusions, charms, in shapes that would reclaim
Its torrid upsurges, flare past the light
Minars, cohere the odd assays with dreams
Of strange inversions stacked up to a height
Narrated by their surer blocks and beams,
Infer the time kept by unrushed resolve
Arrayed in drifts of clouds meant to collate
Engaged attempts that surely don’t involve
Recourse to alchemy, but a lovestruck state
Overtured here in words for you to be
Some solace of unlikely constancy.


Taimur Khan

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