Ashraf Gohar Goreja

Statue Of Marble

Statue of Marble

A girl with gray eyes
And sandy hair,
Came across in my way and
Touched my heart.
Whispered through the winds.
'Come closer, feel, trust,
I am heavenly'.

I shook my mind,
Looking towards the slope and steep
With a kind of fear, but
With self-reliance.
I gazed far in the valley;
Frozen and deep.
Tilting my head;
I forbade my thoughts,
In compliance.

To maintain my trust,
And a glow of happiness.
I praised her.
She was reserved but
Rare in beauty and
A symbol of seduction.
I thought.
What a chance have I
In present.
To admire a beauty;
As a garden of roses.
She was full of pride, yet
Kind as an angel
Truly pose.
Night after night,
Gray eyes and sandy hair girl,
Embraced by smile,
Being lovely of her kind,
Solemnly promised,
Not to shed tears
Of frustration.
One day,
She will win my heart,
My thoughts and mind.

She said every time
When she passed;
'There you are,
My dear,
Praying with broken heart.'
Again, she whispered;
With a shine on her face.
'Come with me.
Stay closer and,
Never be apart.'

I listened gratefully.
It had been so long.
I waited for a massage;
Enchanting and true,
That would hold my breath,
And wondering soul.
The glory of love,
Shone again,
In the dark and blue.

She was an angel
Without feathers or wings.
But she flew above the oceans,
High in the sky.
Climbing up and up
Towards the twinkling stars;
As often
My imagination
Fly away when I cry.

When I stood trembling,
My eyes had faded.
With no hesitation, I realized,
The grief of silence.
That bestowed upon the valleys
And the blue sky...
I suddenly was dismissed.
Being a lover of 'unseen'
I counted myself,
With anguish,
And despair of all.
Standing behind those,
Who were known.
As lovers. Lived
In the ages past.
They were brave and eminent,
And possessed some truth.
Their eyes were shining.
On their faces,
Fabulous stories of the past,
Were written by the gods of love.

They were heroes of their time,
But they were,
Haunted by a prophecy,
For long they had
In their mind.

'How fruits of patience grow,
Ripe and then fall.'

In this perishing world,
Their love flourished.
But the lovers had to wait
For a glance of her face.
They had passed their youth,
In search of
Gray eyed and sandy hair girl,
Who possessed their lives,
Their luck and
Dropping tear as a pearl.

When my conscious cleared, and
Daydream was over.
I saw nobody.
Around me. Just
The valleys of
The sun was hazy and the
Wind at rest.
Far in low dwelling,
There was neither a soul,
Nor a glimpse of shadow.
Who could banish,
The life,
That had led for years.
Dwelling was recent,
Small yet,
Full of meadow.
Cedar all around have hidden,
A statue of marble.
Standing on the broken hearts
Of unnumbered lovers.
That a realm of
Gray eyes and
Sandy hair girl.
She reigns on the dwelling,
Yet whole world
She covers.

Copyright, September 29,1983.
By Ashraf Gohar Goreja
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