Ah! Burn for the gift of sight.

ASK.   BEG THE SUN FOR LIGHT.   

My desert from your native land how many a league divides! / Yet by your power the waters of my heart feel these rough tides. / To what far gathering are you bound, from what far gathering / come? / Your face is blanched, as if from journeyings long and wearisome. / You in this universe all light, and I all darkness, share / One destiny together in our valley of despair; / I burn in a flame of longing, ah! burn for the gift of sight, / And you, all seared with fires of longing, beg the sun for light; / And if your footsteps cannot stray from one fixed circle's bound, / I too move in one circle as a compass-hand moves round.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(THE MOON, BY IQBAL).

— 2 years ago with 2 notes
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