Description
He stood there amidst the turmoil like a river island. The waves of wrongdoings crashed and washed away the civil. The dearest stung and a Sufi was born; Insanity his religion Clinching his fists, banging his chest the lunatic shaped metal. Staring into the sun, howling at the moon the wild raised a heart; of iron and air. Days passed, the nights lingered and the spirits swayed. The heart molded a thump. Qawwals and lines of Gulzar for company; the forged metal took him places. The damned dearest following in shadows and Sufi giving up the ghost; eluding his flesh On higher grounds he resides, hooking out names. The worthy hear the bastard, the unworthy doubt the beliefs. For centuries, he'll live; the treachery forgiven not forgotten.
Sorceress
