Let us March

I know not a candy
Sweeter than you.

I know not a treasure
More precious than you.

I know not a star
Brighter than you.

I know not a wine
More intoxicating than you.

I know not a beauty
More alluring than you.

I know not a rose
More fragrant than you.

My eyes—
And what eyes are they
If you haven’t appeared
So far in their lens?

My life—
And what life is it
If it hasn’t met you
At its final end?

My soul—
And what soul is it
If it hasn’t tasted
Your drink of al-Kawsar?

You are the Sun;
Paradise’s bliss is its mere light.

Only the Lord knows the mystery
Of Meem and this love story.

This tale shall forever
Remain shamefully incomplete,
Even if I scribble my madness
While alive, in the grave, and beyond.

These lines are rather
My heart’s medicine:
To cure the burns of love,
To preserve my sanity,
To soften my throbbing heart,
To console my weeping soul.

Deceived by the tech-messiahs,
Looted by the greed-prophets,
We have gathered at the funeral
Of our oppressed humanity.

As honor and truth are in strife,
Greed and envy remain earth-rife;
Let us then march to Beloved Meem—
The source and end of life.

13th June 2003. Edit March 2022