We are so many things non-expressively.
We hold our most precious truths in our hearts,
knowing that a witnessing makes them no more real.
In not demanding their performance, lies veneration.
This silence.
This solitude.
This conservation.
This honour.
This unity between self and the hearts significance… a maturing, a deepening of reverence, of self knowing and being.

sound of horn heralds-
bedecked bull ambles along,
a world gone, returns!

Don't come in my dreams ,I don't want to pollute
Innocence with my touch, fragrance with my kiss
From your root to your shoot ,my forbidden fruit
My sweetheart my miss you are but eternal bliss

So pure and so chaste even touch may be a crime
I love you ,I love you this I repeatedly but repeat
You are excellent and sweet, this is your sublime
You are so clean an neat as pure white blank sheet

Beauty is, what resides high somewhere on sky
It is like North Star Which dictates to destination
Forget about the bodies let our souls be free to fly
Love is not a commodity my love it is veneration

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

Like in a ballet of Bolshoi
She dances round and round
Lost in a galaxy of glittering stars

Like a shaman by a feverish fire
She goes round and round
The sun for her warmth and glow

Like a smitten little puppy
The moon goes round and round
Her for love and in utter devotion

But in the midst of it all

Like a whirling dervish
She spins round and round
In a dance of venerating trance

To the Grand Choreographer;
Never seen, but always conducting