Rukhsheen

Paradise is lost, t’is oft claimed
Morality withered and honor maimed
The tree of life, once stately and proud
Now wears its morbid blackened shroud

As far as my tired eye can see,
There lies evidence of humanity
Naught strikes my view but desolation
Fiery, fiendish, fatal conflagration

But hark! Amongst this desert bare
I hear a voice, “Halt! Who goes there?
What voice lilts thus above the din?
Show yourself, Sorcerer, whatever guise you’re in.”

Behold! The darkness, where has it gone
Whence comes this light, riding swift upon
That chariot of Heavenly light that brings
Fair countenance to the most foul of things

Sand and dust, under her brief toil
Is transformed into the most fertile soil
And the seeds that are planted therein
Rival Eden, indeed the two worlds are akin

T’was not so, how then, it comes to be
That from the very brink of insanity
A fair hand pulls me back into the light
And makes a fool of this Faustian erudite?

I bow to thee, fair muse, contrite
I prithee, by thine divine light
Guide this fool as thou hath often done
Chase away the night, be my sun

The world seems like a less scary place
When I see you and your smiling face

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