When that captain sailor, above his head the star,
Moves afoot through titanic visions afar,
Away from all that corrupts the mind;
Not least to fill with high deserts, his last resort,
A somersault flying bed by the oasis,
Awakens me to my bride's love in the morn:
Brings forth nothing but to my sightless view
This world of a vanished eye, in timeless tide
Against crow's quill to debarr at heaven's gate,
The Eagle that soars above in deep azure,
Hath spread his seraph wings to this far-fetched sky,
And full-rich content of my reckoning days,
The hand that writ in laurel wreath thy myrtle crown,
Under the Archangle's brow, darkly lit in thy abode.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
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