English Poem–Higher Descent

The windows of my dark chamber, which once were used to pass fluted winds of your love, have become a cacophonic cluster of cracking panes.

My heart wriggles in dire pain of the lost value that it once treasured in the rhythmic beats of time. The whole wisdom is nullified; I became a novice in my perfected art.

The mind hears a soundless voice and knows that it comes from the unknowable, but I have forgotten the tread of my own home: I know not how and where to return. There is a black vision of the unimaginable, but I find it difficult to spell out the name of the master of my soul.

I know that all this is His reflection only, but everything reminds me of the glory that my soul once witnessed, and now, desperately longs for. Though all the paths lead only to Him, yet I am frightened at the prospect of making a choice.

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