The Three Singulars

Pairs I see in the body of a human,
It's cruel to take anyone to pieces,
Being a human I am a bit cruel, too,
And I take myself in the pieces I have.

Eyes and ears and holes of the nose,
Lips and jaws, and the friends our hands,
Never the less my helpful legs,
The acts by pairs are balanced all time.

My rights are engaged in giving something,
My lefts take back whatever I give.
No profit no loss I break the even,
How to make the loss by sinful singulars?

But the singular two are the sinners in fact,
Hidden in the jaws my tongue so nonsense,
Delivered beauty under a blue moon,
Brought hates and dislikes, I hate you devil.

And device of pleasure, an idiot-maker,
You brought death and I lost paradise,
I couldn't see yet your real face,
A satanic agent in a lovely disguise!

My God! They were slaves of instinct,
What could I do, helpless I was,
I tried to control but often sometimes,
I'm Adam I failed what a beauty is an Eve!

Can you forgive the two for the third singular?
In the name of Your holy lovely home,
When it converges it becomes Your lovely face,
When it diverges it becomes the vast universe.

It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth,
Who grows old if the heart is a youth?
You know My Love it's not ugly at all,
Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call.

by Akhtar Jawad

Comments (6)

It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. A poem on a unique theme, very philosophical! The last stanza on the heart isjust beautiful! Enjoyed much!
Your thoughts and lines build up to a beautiful concluding stanza: It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. Great write! Thank you.
A thoughtful poem........................
Beautiful poem with fantastic lines.... It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. Yes, Man is slave of time! Loved reading it.
It's a mosque; it's a church, and a temple of truth, Who grows old if the heart is a youth? You know My Love it's not ugly at all, Don't know whereabouts, but I act on its call. nice poem
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