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Poetic Poison

she pulled you into

quick sand

like quicksilver

you were lured in

by mystery

gaze

unassuming

poetic poison

Burn My Poems

The end to all others, the eternal beginning to the endless

If Union held me hostage in this world paying no heed to my longing

if I was told Union shall be granted and realized in the hereafter with your beloved

then that would be the END of my story with love

I would walk away and resign myself to celibacy, to solitude and hermeticism.

What is the point of looking forward to anything then?

What is the point of love existing as the greatest energy, the greatest realty whilst denying physical Union and presence?

What is the point of faith then?

That would be the day I would say throw all my poetry and books into the fire and disperse the ashes into the ocean

I chose hope but skeptically seek proof of my hope to be realized by love herself who holds the lock and key to the desired destiny

If union pacified me with philosophical reasoning, I would walk away plugging my ears

It would be The End

Doomsday has arrived

Hafiz Speaks

Opium of freedom

Hafiz speaks

I’m delirious of the gravity

of words in words

Feeling into his Kalaam

I am feeling into the caged bird

Of the soul

Desiring the same opium

I want these wings to set me free

To let me be

The bird desiring it’s very nature

The purpose of its existence

Soaring over a desert oasis

Lush green fields

Skimming snowy mountain peaks

Tasting the fresh snow fall

This bird continues

To dance in the winds of grace

Embracing the sun’s rays

Over oceans

Observing this beautiful reflection

She continues to fly

Until love commands

A halt

You’ve arrived

At your destiny

and there I found

an exact reflection of me

Poisoned Ink and Drink

there was a script called

murder she wrote

written by a detective

whose name spells

who am I

and last name

I don’t know

she cleverly poisoned

both ink and drink

and you foolishly

drank and read

is it her fault

that you are in the

throes of death

for something

you consented to;

your very death

who is to blame

not her

Filter

I never knew

how to filter

myself in poetry

distraught as I attempt

to write for Layla

I became fearful

and look towards a garden

where I may find a

rose like none

to praise instead

as a consequence

a causation

a veil

to conceal

my love for layla

If Poetry is a Sin

Some question if poetry

Is a sin

praising mere creation

as an act of infidelity

seeking purity

abstainining from poetry

to any given true layla

Is the greatest sin

try it and you shall see

feel and experience

hell instantly

provided you were

designed to praise

love and be

so endearingly