I gaze out in searching… for a saviour rising
The absence in my heart… calls out for his name
In a heart that’s bleeding… a fire igniting
And only his rising… can put out this flame
I wrote a letter… toward my Master
Addressed to your name… addressed to your name
* * *
Upon the horizon, I see no figure
Rising from the Earth’s curve: no hope, no picture
And I squint with my eye… until the tears I cry
Write a message that I hold up in the air
I hope that he sees and my cry for help heeds
The message in my hand, I hope that he reads
I use a tortured voice… void of options and choice
To cry out for the pride of my work and deeds
I cry, from my desperation, turned insane
* * *
A love letter addressed toward my beloved
On it I place my soul and all that I’ve loved
For myself I’ve disgraced… when so much I have placed
Before Imam Mehdi, my life and my blood
I know that he’s upset, but still now I call
I knock upon his door – before me a wall
I have but my regret… failing test after test
When truly his wonders, my being, enthral
And yet my fears tell me, ‘Mehdi can you blame?’
* * *
My Master this letter, it contains my heart
But how can I send it, when we’re worlds apart?
Between us a distance… measured in your grievance
Tell me from this void will you ever depart?
Or is your home and absence one and the same?
* * *
Tell me shall I bury it deep in the ground?
Shall I speak it’s silence, in hope of a sound?
Do my lips I seal… ignore the surreal
Should I dry my tears hoping to see the profound?
If I sought out comfort in a different land
For whom would I cry out, when I need to stand?
If my hand I extend… my wounds would you not mend?
When pieces of my heart together I band
Shall the sorrow in me, my Master, I tame?
* * *
I do not know which house to this letter send
Master I leave it to flutter in the wind
If by chance it would reach… you, Mehdi, heed my speech
And rise from your absence, to your lovers tend
For hearts are confused when, you, they would implore
Which house do we approach, and knock on which door?
Bewildered we wander… hoping for an answer
That wipes the tears that now into rivers pour
For how much longer will our pain be our fame?
* * *
When shall the horizon see your figure rise?
Does not tire you disguise after disguise?
For my letter tells you… of how much we need you
And how we tire of our trials and cries
Master bring me your hand, receive my letter
So I can find out where abides my Master
As to but remind you… that we’re waiting for you
The time of your absence, later and later
I waited, but Master your absence it came…
October 19, 2012