Nothing but the naught that begat the haste
The naught that was wrought, no sooner than the fall, sooner
Yet the saving, the damned saving, who would thus care
To be saved given the ought wrought by naught? The
Small, the less than free, the gates which close at dawn.
Taking a tangent from Jon Elia’s verse from Shayad (pg 123)
haasil-e-‘kun’ hai ye jahaan-e-kharaab
yehi mumkin tha itni ujlat maiN