In life's fleeting moments rises a melody, then vanishes in an instant, is that your song? With all the yearning of a heart stripped of rhythm and words, I cannot explain it despite a hundred attempts, it crashes down—as if rolling in dust; the soul's incorporeal form, wanting to take shape, shows its face upon the world.
One who found no hindrance on the path, still could not become free; yet some restless longing persists seeking unbroken joy and peace.
One who could never laugh, makes no pretense of tears either; hiding pain within the breast, finds no rapture of celestial music. Though crossing many roads, could not awaken the self, however hard the pull; in reverence and fear stands not even now, knowing God is the vessel of infinite grace.
One who could not be enchanted, tell me, whom does that one wish to enchant? Falls silent in the shadows— to find the self within the self.