When from heaven's high bower,
oft am I bereaved of light,
that you in such subtle thought
are out and about, hath becharmed the skies;
and what in beauty of things I behold,
goes blind by alluring looks to the sun,
bereft of sight my untread dream
of a falling star in winter cold;
while nothing but love of eternal spirit
is bound by One Great Mind:
else me too unworthy of thy perusal
not alone, to desecrate thine holy eyen!
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, February 10,2014.3: 19: 44 PM
Title Revised: From Incantation I To A Mind Map
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem