The cups are set, so pour the wine, my lovedoesn’t matter if it’s cheap or fine, my love
under the ashes, the embers are warm still
and the stars switched on, but their fires chill
not all warmth must glow and shine, my love
the moon’s too full but nothing’s resolved yet
the skies held hostage to a dawning threat
each circle must first wane to a line, my love
and have you touched that cold silvery steel?
dipped into things that it chose to reveal
and felt the shiver go down my spine, my love?
the steel that hones, the whetstones may be his
that sharpness wasn't for me, but know this
the silence and the hands are mine, my love
swap the work and the words as you please
in time, both the sharp and stoke must cease
when it’s finished you’ll know the sign, my love
I did so want to post a ghazal today, but then an extra rhyming line got in the way. Kya karein?