When Thy Name Rests Upon My Breath Poem by Pushp Sirohi

O lass, when gloamin' softly falls,
An' stars awake in silver halls,
My weary heart begins tae roam,
For thou hast made my soul thy home.

Thy voice, like winds o'er heather fair,
Still lingers in the midnight air,
An' ilka beat within my chest,
Cries out thy name, denies me rest.

I've wandered far o'er time an' tide,
Wi' fate a cruel an' shifting guide,
Yet nae such storm nor darkest sea,
Could tear my thoughts, sweet one, frae thee.

O were I but a humble flame,
To flicker close beside thy name,
Or but a verse upon thy sigh,
I'd live, I'd burn, I'd gladly die.

For love, like thine, nae mortal art,
Can cage within a guarded heart—
It spills like dawn o'er shadowed glen,
An' makes a broken soul whole again.

So take this vow, sae pure, sae deep—
In dream or death, awake or sleep,
Wherever fate may cast my breath,
I'll love thee still… beyond even death.
-Brigadier El-Dueno (Pushp Sirohi)