Loneliness transforms the falcon into an owl, blinding its sight.— writes Mujeeb Jaihoon

My sweet beloved
Asked last night,
“Is it in solitude
You like to write?”

I smiled, seeing the look
In her curious eyes:
Jaihoon flows in the hope
Of the Ultimate Prize.

When falcon lacks affinity pure,
Transformed to owl, sight unsure.

I said,
“I live
In the present times.
In my song,
Word and deed rhymes.

I am not fond
Of idle dreams.
I build my ends
With practical means.

Little do I like
To complain.
I speak the truth:
Clear and plain.

Why speak of worlds
Beyond our own?
I am today’s bud,
Yesterday’s flown.

My voice rose
Higher in tone,
Although to listen
Was my beloved alone.

Silent, she gazed upon my face,
As if my eyes gave her cool grace.

January 16 2004. Edit March 2023