The fire You kept lighting within psyche,
Putting out that fire, it became a problem.
On gaining even sandal's cool soothing,
Its burning sensation does not get forgotten.
The bloom does not bring any sweet beauty;
Mental bees have no taste for its honey.
At the night moonlit, I don't go on knitting
Rosy dreams of a place heavenly.
Yours is the magic matchstick;
Earth and heaven they are dancing to it.
Illusion's looking glass that You've built,
In it do the three worlds sparkle.
Putting out that fire, it became a problem.
On gaining even sandal's cool soothing,
Its burning sensation does not get forgotten.
The bloom does not bring any sweet beauty;
Mental bees have no taste for its honey.
At the night moonlit, I don't go on knitting
Rosy dreams of a place heavenly.
Yours is the magic matchstick;
Earth and heaven they are dancing to it.
Illusion's looking glass that You've built,
In it do the three worlds sparkle.
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
It lights the fire that can hardly be extinguished.
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