Up until my last breath I will be grieving in the depths of my soul. My cries may be in vain, but I would accomplish nothing by just lying still.
The Beloved prefers for me to moan, groan, and complain. How else am I to get the attention of his longing ear?
The memory of the Beloved torments the lover. The lover plays the game of worship. When the Beloved catches wind of the lover's state, he drops to his knees and forgets he is the one being worshipped and becomes the worshipper.
The Beloved prefers for me to moan, groan, and complain. How else am I to get the attention of his longing ear?
The memory of the Beloved torments the lover. The lover plays the game of worship. When the Beloved catches wind of the lover's state, he drops to his knees and forgets he is the one being worshipped and becomes the worshipper.
