A Schopenhauer Poem by Naveed Khalid

What needest I this world in subtle reality
of so fair thy form in vague impressions,
that half-baked masonry's night
of clay and wattle-made thistles by the stream,
that in melodious accents such darling insights;
of departed look to my shipwrecked dreams
from nowhere arise, arise under the Archangel's brow,
that Eagle on wings, on wings with pen-pricked angels
hath rent at midnight lease e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
full glorious sun of our common affairs in the backyard
of rosemary garden, her cherubim Wing at my door:
beside the oak in the late evening beyond the sunrise,
of eyes so blind my love of thy most high deserts,
too but corrupts the mind of ages that are dead,
unto the stars in secret influence comment,
crow's quill of darkened earth's infernal grave,
besmeared with time under the canopy of a hut,
our little john of harplings upon the sand dunes
against the harvest moon in full bright summer.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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