@ And Again Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

And again, hath thou sweared,
Upon thine gracious self, and again,
From street to street, door to door;
What grace upon thyself, in love,
Is there any grace greater, than
The disgrace, that is the cup of wine,
Hand in hand, and again the rapture.
Is madness other than bringing stars,
When dust upon dust is the soul’s steps.
The days have passed and the nights,
Longing is, that empty hands are rubbed,
Together. From the life’s unending noise,
A moment to the raga, in slow lament.
Nothing is perfect, beauty is imperfect,
The impatient dancing words, illuminated
Only if I could, the restless scribe, and
The Bard’s words bring in such solace.
Like my throbbing fingers, my aching heart,
A song, is the illusion of mirage, distant
Like the moon, and so near. Alas! If only
I could see your hands filled with roses.

-To someone who has been struggling with life.