Ruba’i # 18

And suddenly the wistful wind swept through,
Shook from his sky the stars and drops of dew.
Like a scythe it cut the wheat from his past,
Seared him with ache, for what? he wished he knew.

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2 thoughts on “Ruba’i # 18

    1. That longing holds its own answer. With time it will unfold—as the gathering of the water in the dark womb of the earth suddenly bursts into a spring and hugs the eternal light.

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