PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Every morning at the break of day I die

And after a few hours of forgetfulness I wake up

I have seen my breathing spirit as nothing but smoke

So my essence is smoke inside and outside too it's smoke.

Some of my friends eat like gluttons and drink too

Saying the day we live in is the day that is really ours

But I do not eat much nor do I drown myself in drinks

Yet I always wake up for a new day as night sinks.

God is not to be searched for in the skies

Nor in hermit caves or jungles and ruins

He is the spirit in me and is with me till the time

When the power to inhale and exhale will be stopped

And all that will be left of me will be my dusty decline.

So dear wise and far-sighted friends of mine

Inhale deep the spirit of God for as long as you can

Perhaps it may dissolve itself inside you make you fine.

Or with the dreg of the liquor your Saqi offers you

Borrow a puff of smoke from the friend that is thine

Let us see what happens when the drink lights the spirit

Whether we start coughing badly or become it with it.

My grief-laden heart is not a diagnosable "dis-ease"

Nor is my sad face the expression of an actor

How can I ever explain my misery to those who can't see

The drops of aching wounds known only to a lover.