In loves blessed course
this impossible thing
unknown valley
the sick nightingale, silent.
Broken beads of intention strewn
eyes weary
dusty road ahead
The Less Bad.

A moment, like all in
this infinite thing
expands to the endless skies,
symphony rests.
Degrees of separation
a moth circles a dim flame
longs to be annihilated
waters calm to still reflection.

‘Bring it to a stir!’ ‘Onward!’
The disgraced command the moon
she laughs,
everything received
in its Time.
Now, the road ahead,
The Less Bad
the disgraced, gaze fallen, forbidden desire.

Perhaps it will live as memory
this forever thing
then I will always remember
I will proudly grieve!
Your shawl veiled face
turned left, whispered praise
To God and the Prophet (SAW)
Prayer and sunset.

SubhanAllah — God is perfect!
If it was the last.