Weary Traveler

I'm a weary traveler, an erring wanderer, a lost soul.

The winds of fate carry me forth,

while I go on searching and searching

for my Beloved.

In the darkness of night, I lie awake.

Gazing at the heavens, I call her sacred name.

In response, waves of cold silence descend upon me,

and gnaw at my flesh and crush my bones.

I'm a weary traveler, an erring wanderer, a lost soul,

a fool carried by the wind, searching for his Beloved.

I've no possessions to my name for the wind erodes all,

except Her sacred name.

For all this yearning, searching and calling,

sometimes, when all is quiet and still,

I hear a faint echo of a whisper that says,

'Search no More. The Beloved is here. Here. Here.'

To this I rejoice, even though, even though,

I'm still a weary traveler, an erring wanderer, a lost soul,

my heart tethered to the winds of fate,

I go on searching for my Beloved,

Calling her Sacred name,

until I'm no more.