Quality is dear
Heaven is not cheap
Neither is the earth
To be anyone’s for good
Then before losing
One’s hand or foot
Seize the opportunity
Get in gear
Leave good for the better.

Like the first light:
The power candle
Sunrise on the golden high
May fall for for the rose
At first sight
As if the veiled night
Popped rosy on its black mole
But always before long
Back to the night the sun is gone.

The earth on the go
leaves a dew
on a so polished petals
as if that's never
been touched before.
If the dew rolls down
the sea dance in billows.

The moon too ambles down
but only to tread on the edge.
No star ever saw
it touched the lofty sea on the go!

Kings and emperors
wanted just a sip once for all.
Albeit not even Alexander the Great
could hand on a nectar is yet to pop
an uncharted water drop.

The sun first thing in the morning
tends to align towards it.
The nightingales hops on the rose
a new day breakouts in rays of gold.

When the arts of the day is done
'it's not' still a black canvas remains
on the pick of the twilight
the Moon gives the first pose
to the countless stars!

And that punters cloud somewhere
above the earth and down the sky
pours down singing
the deep song of the sea day and night.

Yet an uncharted but ever on
stands on tangent water drop
neither withers in the rays of sun  
nor due to the gravity pulls down!

The evening star
at the sunset of Ramadan.
Mistake it not for a stellar
maybe an embroidery fell down
from the broidery in paradise!
What crosses in your mind, dear
fondly you look back
at this nick of time?

The twilight ambles down
with moonflowers on the hands
is about to wrap up
one more blessed day of Ramadan.
What have you come up with then
for the fasting person on your hand?
What a broad array
you stole the last show of the day!

Singing nightingales keeps musing
deeps down the rose in low light.
The first light shines out
amidst the dawn chorus.
What does it miss out
the nightingales disappears
in broad daylight.

Have you too leave the scene
with the rose dews
only to pour it off the honeyed petals
into the fasting person's glass?    
So cool it tastes a sip of water
at the Iftar!

Target is clear
be something
when the time is up!

The rose is at the tip of the fingers
the thorn is down the abyss what now
is a golden sun in a dew
hanging on its petal balmy hue!

The nightingale did jump on it  
first thing in the morn
but one seems to know the rose
since the dawning of the dawn!

I will be back
where the sun returns.
Goodness knows
shunning how many stars
it comes on the way.
For me just meeting you is fine.

A hiss of the moon tucking
into just a pair of lock
let alone in pavilion-tresses
on the back of one's eternal silence.
Giving autumn shadows
to seven skies' azure.
What now the stars are gone
followed in their countless galore!

Eyes of the buds ope
dreaming nightingale
hops up to the morning rose  
singing in what a balmy fold.