Against zephyr, at root of this tree of sadness,
Evening's humble lantern, kindled I keep.
Wanting aught and there is naught belongs to me,
With love's pollen core of heart I smear.
Of You there is no coming or going;
Hence the Lord Everlasting had You been and You be.
Also in future, You will go on constantly;
Myself to console, I simply call You near.
Having been in thought, You are in reminiscence;
Day and night You exist for ages after ages.
Vanity I set aside; in mind I enter presence,
My own imperfections carefully veiling.
Sarkarverse article
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Thursday, May 2, 2024
Who am I fooling?
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Everything about You is a mystery to me.
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