My Dear

You've come out of the books You've come out of the dry roses When I looked my old stuff, again You've come out of closed envelopes Nothing can stop you my light You've come out of the wood holes Your laughter tells me something You've come out of the titles of love How simple is the breath, you take You've come out of the torments There is neither demand nor curiosity You've come out of wrong thoughts Time will not return, you will be useless You've come out of the misery's shelter Your quietness tells me, Imran! You've come out of questions