meni kabir Poems

I have come across pieces of broken hearts on my injured way to your fragile cities. Now you should not have shown me to this fashion of a wicked affair that forsakes me to despair and rips my flesh asunder every time I die into your arms.

So, here I am, again, I drag my fate to your missing feet, the stupefied half-dead drenched in time and passionately detached from life and the affairs of men. Not here and not there, poor interred thing still clinging onto distant echoes of a nameless name half way past now or then with only my sack of tears, my childhood and my nakedness loosely sheathed in a dusty cloak that carries the smell of your absence.
...

Now when that boat set upon my shore, it was deep into in the cracked hours, in the dead of night, in the height of a mad tempest.

It must have drifted from the voids of absence or even from the trembling seas of age, winds of recession then must have blown it my way
...

It will not matter that you are neither here nor there I love you the way you are shapeless and absent and as old as the hands of time.

Yet i do not love you so as to possess you because to love you in this way then will be to place you and to place you is the greatest way of misplacing you,
...