“Resurgence”

In Nayshapour’s ancient embrace,

Omar Khayyam wandered, seeking grace.

Beneath Balkh’s skies, where whispers bloom,

He pondered life’s fleeting loom.

The Equinox, that delicate seam,

Where day and night entwine in dream,

Balancing scales of light and shade,

A cosmic dance, forever played.

Nowruz, the Persian New Year’s kiss,

Awakens Earth from winter’s abyss.

Farms, once barren, now wear green attire,

As springtime breathes life into every spire.

Vegetation, resilient and wise,

Knows the secret of eternal ties.

Each leaf, each bud, a testament bold,

To cycles of rebirth, stories untold.

Omar mused: “Human life, a fleeting spark,

Yet these shoots rise from soil so dark.

Why not we, too, like verdant sprouts,

Reclaim our essence, cast off doubts?”

Thousands of years, he wished to borrow,

To taste renewal, free from sorrow.

To shed mortality’s fragile sheath,

And bloom anew, defying death.

So let us honour Nowruz’s call,

Embrace the equinox, stand tall.

For in this dance of light and shade,

Lies hope—a promise never swayed.