Love, you are nothing else,
But you are the worn grace of a lover.
They ask the gain and I number,
Who else could ever count the blessings -
Of the hidden divine hand.
Love's a scaffold,
The way is the dignity and step
A royal gait, and the head like it carries
Goblet filled to the brim,
If it ain't do that
It ain't love indeed,
Beneath the calm surface of the sea
There are seven other universe
There are a hundred thousand volcanoes.
The sun is a mass of gaseous fires,
It appears, every morning
With rosy fingers, not earlier nor later.
The thin membrane of eye
Holds back a river,
And the night's dark veil
Millions of stars, blinking in usual constellation.
This is known
The elements descend to elements
To resurrect is the larger living, beyond death
Nothing itself is a void into nothing,
Love is the crown on the head
Both the beggar and the king wears;
Some see it and to others it is hidden
The last wish, the last written word,
Give me regal grace,
Unseen, O divine providence!
Through the garb of love and devotion,
And through my smallness,
Through my immense limitations
I ask thee forgiveness
And acceptance into your Divine Grace.
Sadiqullah Khan's Other Poems
Topic(s): love and art
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Comments about this poem (Regal Grace by Sadiqullah Khan )
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