It feels like I am waiting for something. It feels like it is so close to my reach,
Yet, far away from the chambers of my heart.
I look at the lines on my hands to find any luck,
But then I remembered how pointless that is since the handless are lucky too.
What am I waiting for? Is it you, Ya خَير?
Am I waiting for you to bring the sight back to my blind heart?
Or am I waiting for this half piece of my heart that is left in me, to connect to your half?
Is this simply wishful thinking? When can I know?
But whoever you are and whenever you come,
Make sure that we find room for no other to come,
In this long waiting, there shall be none, but only us for this pain to numb.
YOU ARE READING
You Who Knows Least
PoetryA sequel to my book "You Who Knows Best". Read, and you will find much intellect. The thoughts I share here are of my inner sect.
