Turmoil Poem by Ayoub Agah

I have left myself behind, only an empty name remains,
Do not ask for signs of me—I am but an illusion's trace.

Drowned in the boundless ocean of your love,
A drop, lost in the vast Northern waves.

In vain, I seek a moment of steady ground,
Yet fate has trampled me like flowers on a woven lace.

Should one inquire about this weary heart of mine,
Say—I am last year's calendar, gathering dust in place.

Beneath the burden of time, my frame has bent,
Since you have gone, my stance has lost its grace.

I am disheveled, like a madman's locks in the grasp of wind,
Where is the hand to soothe this tangled state?

Wherever I step, the echoes of despair arise,
And autumn's dust still circles round my space.