Transitional - Poem by Mohammed Sabbagh
Oh thou soul, put on thy forsaken love's garment
Dark, thy days have made it
And weep until unpigmented with disenchantment
For all thou've seen was miasma around it.
Oh my sun, thy own termination thou have sought
And now the new source I have to seek
Through thy black hole, I thought,
The new star I have to peek.
Oh thy deciduous spirit, thy own leaves thou have to keep
For thy eternal spring thou shall find in me
And thou sweet heaven, let thy rapture into us seep
My star I've found and in its light I can see.
Oh thou soul, put on thy propitious love's garment
Auspicious, thy star shall make it.
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