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He Is

Fareen
Azeez


Quagmire

He Is



 

Like some fallen Eaglet
Wounded, yet unbeaten, unbroken
Spirited – fire in the eye
Denying his need for a tender touch
To heal the festered wounds of Fate
A fighter – a prince of the sky

Like some touching melody
Soothing, tender – a tune
Unconsciously hum, in solitude
Simple, yet, vibrant . . . alive!
Echoing in my heart
A song of Hope or tears?

Like some cryptic Oracle
All-knowing – an uncanny wisdom
Stripping away every veil, every mask
Revealing myself to me – the naked face
Each word as a resounding incantation
A truth I knew, yet did not know

Like some delicate fragrance
Sans source, sans direction
A haunting, elusive presence
A hint, a waft in every breath
Pervading my consciousness
Around me . . . Within me?

As fragrance, as instinct, music or thought
No sense unaware – or un-subdued
Omnipresent – yet constantly awaited
Conquered, I know nothing but You
Yet, my Love – Do I know You?
Or, more truly, do I know you as Mine?


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