You think you’ve got
better
Climbed higher; made
progress
But the ladder’s
swept out
From under your feet.
A Wistful Love Were that I could gaze, Upon your illumined face. Were that my eyes could trace The pearl of nur in its embrace Of the grooves of your face – The perfect arches of your brows, Your midnight orbs – piercing yet somehow A reflection of mercy, love and grace. Were that I could see The seal of prophecy nestled proud, Between broad shoulders speaking loud Of original form – a guarantee Of a gentle prowess, courage and strength - only found In the best of the best, Al Mustafa, Whose blessed gleam reached near and far- A breath of life to a people drowned. Were that I could drink From the well of Ilm that you exude, From your healing and love of a magnitude - To rival the fire of a burning star, To soothe the pain of a livid scar. For surely you are the missing link In a yearning hearts disquietude, A promise of guidance and fortitude. Were that I could sleep To dream of your beloved form, Witness your splendour...
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