A lifetime has passed in searching, searching for Thee;
As such, what is the reason You did not come near?
Flowers plucked with care, garlands strung with love–
They have gone and withered neath the scorching heat.
People say You are a sea of kindness;
If so, why is my pitcher not filled?
Perplexity, soaked in own experience,
Has bred in me vacuity.
Hey Ceaseless Gamester, I have just this supplication:
You go on making sport, there is no harm in it;
But the pain of any other, any soul's ballad,
Feigning to not fathom it, is that befitting?
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I ask for just a tiny change.
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