Beam of death

Death was seeping through a little hole in the window, onto the floor of her dark room of life, like a narrow beam.

Her life wasn’t dark though; it was full of colour, spark, and glitter — but with an undertone of black.



And she noticed!



It seemed so subtle and vivid that she was unable to ignore.



And it wasn’t her first appearance. She had been playing hide and seek with her many times in life. She peeped in her dreams and sipped the brightness of them. She stayed in her pathways and took her destinations away.



Then she abided in her mind and broke all the nervous systems inside.



The next spot was hope — that was lost by her.



After this showing off, she hid behind a curtain, and she started watching life penetrating every corner of her being. New buds started to bloom, nerves started to join each other. The ways opened up in front of her. The spring season stayed for a while.



And then she re-emerged.



But this time she had a different form and a new pattern. She wasn’t in her veins but in the walls of her heart.



She beat in her heart, slowly but vividly. She could listen to its music — sad and melancholic.



She survived that as well.



But now she entered the room like a morning beam into a nightly room. She watched her playing on the floor, touching her feet, tattooing her toes. The beam was getting wider and reaching her knees.



She was smelling her now like a fragrance on her shawl. She was going to leave this room, the chair, and the bed alone. She realized she was going to break up with her recent life — leaving everything unfinished, untidy!



She forgot to say,

missed to whisper,

and time

was already there to leave.

She had to leave

Unfinished works,

Steaming tea, unsipped.

A dropped tapestry,

Laundry waiting in the

tub.



____________

Sofia kashif

00:09

Tuesday,11Nov.2025



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