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Ike Khan


London, England, UK

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Ike Khan

Lucidity, my once fine friend
Will storm ne’er end or skies be fair?
Will thoughts no longer follow me,
Will notions not return my stare?

Demon weavers loom against
The cambric of my reason;
Drape it o’er with heavy baize
To veil the breeze of final season.

Confidante, you seldom come
As consort or to light the flame
That heats the hearth of sentiment
And billows essence through my name.

Whichever deuce has met my mind
And garnered this occluded sky
Against mine eyes and not my soul
Shall also perish as I die.

I plead for nought of any soul
Save one request for you my friend;
Attend or wander as you may
But be with me at journey’s end.