It's the final leg of the journey . . .

Let's do it again!

What is the magic in the sum of 19?
It is not quite 20, in the mind a small enough amount.
It is more than 15, which would make you a cheapskate.
So many really good charities keep asking me for just 19.

Love,
Like some dove
On wing high above;
It is a weightless drug,
These feathers, which I hug
And I rise

A bright sun heated this ground and we richly sowed in fertile soil.

Spring was full of possibilities, which we now enjoy in summer produce, so luscious.

Ah, as tasty as sweet melon and as fresh as scent of cucumber love is.

And we have seen that the bounty we receive is equal to the worth of our toil.

The most exquisite symbol that I could give,
“A teardrop on the cheek of time”.  This tomb
Of my heart white walls of marble enclose.

Nothing matters.  Even if the people suffer,
Their blood will stain the Makrana stone;
Unclean, no longer pure.  My love rests

With your moldering body forever.  Only
Our youthful memories keep me until
I lie with you, again, Mumtaz.

You bought the dawn paying such a high price,
Spending the darkness like fake money,

Saving up your hopes like a hoarder;
Looking for someone else to bring your joy

Wading through the denseness to you.
Throw open the windows, the doors;

The light was out there, waiting, all along
For your open eyes.

Early to bed
Never to rise,
Circling around a thought
That keeps me paralyzed;

Here,
In the womby-tomby
Safety of my coverings
I begin to realize;

I don't want to remain unborn.