Poem By Gulam Abbas Hashmi
I started a search, to even my lord;
it ended, on the verge my Lord was slain.
The mystery of truth, the mightiness of being-
all centered on me; all was lost in one gain.
The mocking of dour, the subduing art;
and barking of bullying blasphemy talks,
the wisdom; to carry a bountiful stock
rest now; all spent, in this pit, in this dark.