Nabeela Altaf






The moon has ripped a hole in the vagrant sky.
I see the light of the universe dribble through into our world.
See it shine right across the building Man has made through the years.
Skyscrapers dangle like scarecrows. They stand quite still.
I haven't seen them ruffle even a bit in a mighty wind.
Man builds and the scarecrows grow. 
Build. Grow. Build. Grow.
Somehow, they are constructing a ladder.
To reach the hole in the sky
and close it, perhaps with a garbage lid.
Or a handful of papers, each one of them a love letter
to be picked up by an alien resident in the outside world.
The hole cracks a line across the glassy globe and I'm afraid
it is breaking.
The boundaries of our universe. Spreading and cracking and finally
Man will keep on building.
Man will keep on striving for higher and taller things.
And one day when the tallest building in the world will be built
on the highest plain of ground under our feet
then only will Man see
the beauty of moon light, how it shines in the darkest of nights.