The Rosy Cross-Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

Not least by what to my mind still in winter cold,
This world that moves me more to a vanished eye,
Feeds on nothing but what I write of my own shadow;
Blind of wanton looks so fair, a drifting dream amiss
From what remains confounded in Beulah's night,
My love of hallowed fire in Hades of a star!
The Eagle that soars above in high heavens,
Full many a pen-pricked angel at his beck and call,
Hath beset this throne at the gallows of thy feet,
And all my reckoning days in seraph wings of gold.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Date Created: Wednesday, June 18,2014 11: 02: 13 AM