Frayed dews on trees,
Different hues in the sky.
O Divine,
I kneel before you—
And only you,
Till the end of my breathing rhyme.

With this reflection on the past
To seek the future,
Admiring both—
Dullness and contrast.

From tormenting whirlwinds
To silent rains that shower
Music and fragrances—
I return to my path,
Walking alone, but I am with you.
Sensing the incense of these flowers,
Bloomed by the wise dews.
I stayed in memory for hours.

As guided by the time,
Written on rocks, papers, and stones—
The metaphors, riddles, ballads, and lyrics of you,
Or any other yet efficient rhyme.

Ghazals with rhythm
Or a pictured haiku—
Life is a poem indeed.
Explaining the context,
Lost among mysteries,
I bestow myself
To the greatest writer—
Creator of all.

In your servitude, I am
A knight; a student; a slave.
Whatsoever I am,
In you, with gratitude,
I find my peace