If You will not stay, Beloved,
Why did You arrive, mind enticing?
In my psyche pain-impaired,
To bestir despondency?
With mist had I been filled,
Ringed by a self-created girth.
Bereft of speech, inertia's letters,
Ruined was the thread of my blossoming.
It is Yourself that I prize;
At just Your name, I weep, I smile.
Dawn's full moon,[1] night's heap of moonlight,
You infuse with ideation from a place unseen.
Sarkarverse article
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Is it to do Your work furtively that You appear?
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