I long to lose all my senses in your thick curly hair

I long to lose all my senses in your thick curly hair;
what bliss to be lost in scented curls so rich and rare!

I long to lose my breath in lips of eternal promise-
no death can rival the heaven of your supernal kiss.

How to find the immaculate purity of my own being;
how to see the eye which is the source of all seeing?

These eyes of stone sunken in sockets will turn to dust
thousands of times before the heart surrenders in trust.

No pain grinds so fine -and slowly, as the Desire-Mind.
Where is that grace that bestows sight to the Heart-blind?

I forget everything to run my fingers through your hair-
what joy to caress my life back from dull-blind despair!

Darvish has lost all his good sense in hopeless desire
for the Friend. His eyes of stone flicker with cold fire.






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