Blessed Clear Morn

You tapped my chest: follow the beat, my heart.
Your gaze is clear, our eyes replete. My heart!

O the flight of fancy, the rage of love
overflows all bounds, reason unseats, my heart.

Yet the bounds are real, firm. Your simple word
banks back the fire, the flames retreat, my heart.

O it were not so! This thorn path, slow trod;
may turn grassy walk, I entreat, my heart.

How far the arid sand? The night alone?
The desert chill? The sorrow sweet? My heart!

Shall despair be so deep, eyes overcloud.
My step falter, fallen crow's meat my heart?

O morning star, will thou fade all vain hope
Or bring light to my weary feet, my heart?

Garden or mirage? Welcome or depart?
Life-giving warmth or deadly heat, my heart?

O how I yearn for the blessed clear morn,
When word is out, when next we meet, my heart.

December, 2008

(Published in The Ghazal Page of March 2009)

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