Do not wait for the beloved’s sight,
He will walk a different path tonight.
The arrival of expected will last but at eternity
Whose kohl will mourn of its blackness, tonight?
The air hums a hollow tune under moonlight
The street of heers awakes in crimson’s delight
Is it the funeral of hope or the heena fading away?
Or stained memories of the unknown, tonight?
Under the spell of uncertainty, silence silent with fright,
Since the senile truth was fueling Satan’s might.
They unlock the darkest morning sky in her eyes,
And she forgets the meaning of love, tonight.
May we kill the beloved tonight?
Before they take him away from our sight.
Or at the altar of insanity as the whirling dervishes
Burn the ego and fill all the voids, tonight?
For the agent of our faiths is not an ordinary man
As he creates enough maze of moaning and clinging
Yet the beloved waits across the river of separation
And the poetry seeks of its union with him, tonight.
