Lead Me Home Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

Lead me home, O master!
Through the old stone grave-yard
To the door of my existence seventy years old.
The gaze on walls, my ears open to the noise
Of my neighbor, on the mud ridden feet,
Let me enter the spring, on your autumnal face.
O be the lame goat, left behind,
For I drank from the streams, less than intellect,
To the spirit's river, I watch the open sky
Of the abandoned home, O lead me in,
As you take me back home, from an abject wilderness.
‘Learn from the lame goat, and lead the herd home',
My wanderings like the poems I write,
Are on the dear one's tongues, don't put them,
On the lips of the alien sensibilities-
Do you know the path, O crawl the dust upon
Your years of youth, in your old age,
Hence the cup is a mirror, unto your heart
And freedom's presence, a lighted glass.
Drink from the cooked pitcher on aloes,
Sans a carpenter's detail, and weave through rugs
Many colors, unless the deceit of dyes,
Vanishes in the red lip's hue, and the cheek's shine.
Keeper of the tavern, lead me home,
Your urns are empty, goblets turned upside,
In the chase of rascal love, I had been roaming,
Not knowing that the fragrance is from the Self.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
January 14,2015.