And in the end, what treasure shall I own
But a sinful self and a regretful sigh!
© Binte Ayesha Wani
O love' thou must dwell in my heart
Govern its beats and the interval between them.
Thy ambrosial fragrance must seize
my sense, render me unfamiliar to mine self even.
Thy elegant image must house
my mind, render me uncommitted to all world vistas.
Thy sacred recital must adopt
my lips, and unfold the bloom of my soul.
Thy pious devotion must spring
out of my soul, and satiate my deserted being.
© Binte Ayesha Wani
Night offers me its shoulder and I dangle my empty self on it, and drench, drench and drench with , my intoxicating pillow. Moon comes down by my side, consoles me till I sleep... and sin in the ocean of dreams, the dreams that could never be expounded even by Yousuf! © Binte Ayesha Wani
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