Soon as I depart from what by love
You illumine the world before the sun;
And not with eyes but to paint the skies,
The seraph wings of legendary figures,
Of such Word upon the window-pane,
That by writing more shall blind the eye,
Drain blood from out of vein to fill the cup;
To see them forlorn, e'erything in me rebels,
Against the sun those bewitching daemons, cry:
Slain! slain! that Wickerman of burning gold!
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, February 24,2014 12: 13: 34 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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