Of Cabbages and Kings

October 28, 2006


Filed under: Poetry — Chinmayi @ 5:47 pm

Even in prayer, we are so unfettered and self-examining;
In case the door of Kabla was not open, we would just come back
(instead of knocking and seeking admittance)

Everyone accepts your claim for being unique,
No idol, reflecting you as a mirror, can come face to face with you

The compliant which does not reach the lips leaves a mark on the heart;
The drop of water that fails to become a river is simply food for dust on

If, at the time of telling, blood does not flow from each eyelash,
The story would not be of love merely (but simply as) the story of Hamza.

If it cannot see the entire Tigris in a drop and the whole in a part,
Such an eye would merely be a child’s game, not the eye of a wise man


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