Dream is a mystery sometimes unfolded

amidst creeping eeriness

unstipulated to the seemingly compos mentis.

As long as my stint in your thought

bears a meaning for life

because I wish to worship the sanctity

of your feeling for me and tree,

clouds wait for a breeze and soft rain soaks

a parched soul and dry land

scattering the smell of sopping mud.

Lava doesn't count on you or me

when it needs to flare up

but the sky is safe from wrath and damage.

Looking at a twinkling star,

you may have a different perspective

as you reckon differently

but even a second sight of a child

makes them imagine a winged horse

on which they travel faster

to sky and catch the lambent light of the star.

At the end of a rough day

when evening descends in high spirits

a second chance captivates you.

A pull towards a second soul always appeals

a traveller, an eternal traveller,

rambling alone for months and years

along creepy streets, through dark woods.

Mohammad Shafiqul Islam, poet, translator, and academic, is Professor of English at Shahjalal University of Science and Technology, Sylhet, Bangladesh.