Kabul, the City of Kohl’s Seller

In a city of dreams, shadows are cast,
Where Kohl’s sellers dwell, enchantments amassed.
Eyes blinded by wonders, a sight to behold,
A tale of allure, though often untold.

Their artistry blooms like blossoms in spring,
With hands that create, a mesmerizing thing.
Oh, how they dance through the cloaked city square,
Whispering secrets, with a mystical flair.

Silent ambrosia, their potions they brew,
With kohl in their palms, enchantments ensue.
The sands of time, they capture with grace,
Each stroke of their brush, a delicate space.

But in this realm of beauty, there lies a curse,
Their eyes, oh, their eyes, left to immerse.
Kohl’s captivating spell, a double-edged sword,
For with its allure, their sight it devoured.

Yet undeterred, they carry on, unfettered,
In darkness, their art unfailingly tethered.
For through their fingertips, enchantment distills,
And tales are woven, with the power they wield.

Oh, city of Kohl’s sellers, their vision may fade,
But their spirits shine bright, undying, unswayed.
Their work a testament, a gift from above,
Blindness no obstacle to their heartfelt love.

In this city of kohl, a beauty profound,
Where sellers are blinded, but their grace knows no bound.
Let their art be a guide, to inspire us all,
And may their resilience forever enthrall.

Azad, February 17, 2023

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