The heart I once thought mine
You stole the heart I once thought mine;
severed its bonds with your righteous axe.
Is that blood on your sadra or holy wine?
Hands in prayer bear a knotted bind,
as the platform I walk creaks and cracks.
You stole the heart I once thought mine
and lead me now to block and blind,
bereft of tenets, opinions, facts.
Is that blood on Your sadra or holy wine?
Your smile before me, what lies behind?
Your sadra in the wind twists and tacks.
You stole the heart I once thought mine.
Solace and grief come intertwined --
ghee and sandalwood deftly stacked.
Is that blood on Your sadra or holy wine?
Is death the remedy for which I pine?
Only Your blade this illusion lacks?
You stole the heart I once thought mine.
Is that blood on Your sadra or holy wine?
(Unpublished)
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