A Song for Sunset


The sun.
The setting sun.
A ball of moving light.
A sphere of gold-silver.
Such depths are coming.
The sun in like the solitary angel,
Raised and now immersing:
Into the Arabian Sky’s bowl.


Beneath a tent.
A shepherd’s flute will play.
In rapid stream of sighs,
And raptures:
Songs of Allah and His messenger.


The sun.
The setting sun.
The sun has vanished.
To rest and sleep.
Between sleeping and waking hours,
A shepherd’s flute will play:
In rapid streams of sighs,
And raptures.



20th March 2009


Geeta Chhabra

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