Harvesting the light
Dara S. Esfandiary
September 15, 2005
Gazing at the moon, it’s you my sun I see
Seeing your eyes, it’s your soul I feel
Feeling your soul, God ravishes me...
Raptured by the Siren’s enchanting song,
Not a hundred angels could set me free.
Love, the greatest antagonist of the strong,
Lasciviously lulls with unpretentious glee.
Eyes shut, I intoxicate over the refrain
As further and further from myself I sojourn
Thru God’s foggy playground of water and fire
Wherein, light years prior, my star was born
Of heroic passions burning an almighty pyre.
In love’s epic struggle, ‘tis I the gallant martyr.
Orphaned from myself, in you I seek shelter:
Your soul’s my home, your eyes my windows.
A glimpse of life’s true face my singular prayer,
Faithfully, I toil in the dense and lonely shadows
Harvesting the light until truth finally glows...
The image of a moon within a sun gathers a pose,
As the sound of the Siren within a man still echoes.