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Elusive Thou, Supreme Reality
Make manifest Thyself in mortal cloak,
Obeisance, suppplication, longing, hope,
Lay thus entrapped within mortality.
Shield not thy heart from pain, or longing's fire,
Let not thy mangled spirit seek a cure,
In the Maker's sight, a heart is dearer. pure,
Which suffers endlessly in His desire.
Love now has lost its lustre, lost its zeal
And beauty must surrender all its charms
For Ghaznavi, no longing in his arms,
Ayaz, his waning love must now conceal
I once in my lone meditation hear,
Upon the ground, a voice above the roar,
Cry out: "thy heart infused with gods of yore
Shall find no solace, find no hope in prayer"
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