Mystical Tryst – A Poem

Every time and all the time,
When seclusion dominates
The fragile ambit of my grief-torn life,
And, like an ominous blanket,

The night stretches it’s dark embrace
Over the horizon of my defiled world,
As if grieving the demise of a lover-
Whose breaths were choked
By the induced pangs of unrequited love;

I hear my name being called
In a voice resembling to that of the King of Heaven,

Then every inch of melancholy
Tastes a shameful defeat,
And the chambers of my heart are brimmed with,
The soothing cadence of divine lullabies;

Under such circumstances of jubilant glee
My unruffled room gets converted
Into my own “Koh-E-Toor”
And I talk to my creator for indefinite time.