The garment torn apart, ropes <br />Broken asunder. Waters, torrential <br />Flow above the embankments. Oceans <br />In your eyes, held by brim on lashes <br />Smile, ah! On your lips, would I see white <br />Pearls. Happiness, like the percussor’s fingers, <br />The tambourine dances, colors float, across <br />The horizon at nightfall, an urn in tavern, <br />From earth raised, dreaming heaven - <br />A cup more, to the soul of the great alcazaba, <br />The moment goes, before the habit is broken <br />Angel of death, wait, the inebriation is yet not over. <br /> <br />Sadiqullah Khan <br />Islamabad <br />November 26,2013. <br /> <br />“The religious inebriation of big cities.- Pantheism. <br />I am everyone; everyone is me. <br />Whirlwind.” Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) , French poet, essayist and art critic. <br /> <br />Our Man in Marrakesh @ HommeMode<br /><br />Sadiqullah Khan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/torn-apart-25/
