It is not love to love a thing
That dies for such a death may bring
Decrease in what you thought was love
When comes to pass the painful sting
Of time. But love is what may grow
As separation floods the soul
With tears bear the vessel of
Your longing for the love you know
But how can separation be
When eyes have never been to see
What we believe is our beloved?
It follows then that we and he
Have met before the birth of time
Before the birth of pain and rhyme
For we know what we feel inside
Is from a separation’s tide
This utterly cold morning became relevant after I read this poem. Thank you Khalid.
Lovely to hear from you.