Musings of a Beloved

Musings of a Beloved

Shall I narrate to you the stories my beloved tells me
Or will my own musings suffice today?
Ahh, how he eulogizes these dark, exotic eyes!
How he gets inebriated with the redness of these lips!
He tells me I’m his goddess – and oh I am! And he’s mine.
I’m his heaven, and he's mine. And there’s no hell.
And when he comes to me,
He looks like Majnoon at last awoken from a deep slumber,
Divested of Laila’s lips
And there’s passion, untrammeled passion
And, with closed eyes, reveling in this felicity,
He tells me God exists. Yes, God exists.
For such finery is surely divine.
His hand in mine, my eyes cleaving to his,
I implode with yearning and love
And we sing songs of love
And I become the moon, and he becomes my glow
I recline with him in a spring of blue roses
And it’s us alone – two impenitent souls in love
But, alas, their mordant stares!
They make the world an incubus, a world where love is forbidden
But such is the state of a folk inured to envy!
What— must we immolate our existence now and let eternity begin?
For such is the penalty of love, written in history
No. Let us hone the blade of our love
And depart in fathomless eternity
And soar where the zephyrs blow.

~ Me, Nov. 25th 2010