Insaan

Man

What a strange tyranny of Creation's art, To make of Man an Enigma apart, And hide that Enigma from his own gaze.

He is restless with a thirst for knowing, But the mystery of life will not unfold.

Beginning and end are lost in sheer amaze; What else exists within a mirrored maze?

The river’s wave surges in restless motion, The river, path-bound, journeys to the ocean.

The wind gives the passing cloud its swift flight, And on its shoulders carries it through the light.

The stars are drunk on the wine of their Fate, In heaven’s prison, chained to their state.

The Sun, that pious riser with the light, Who brings the message to arise from night,

Then hides behind the western mountain’s crest, And drinks the cup of twilight, and finds rest.

Each thing finds joy in its own manifestation, Drunk on the wine of its own creation.

There is no one to share the sorrow of Man; How bitter is the existence of Man!