Awwal hob
Awwal hob what makes me coerce,
Driven me into the arid dessert,
Waiting the rain to shower me with ceaseless hope.
I stood by the shadow of gypsy norm,
Circum through the eyes of the future,
Through my hands and yours.
Through the midst, of you and me.
Eyes me with your hiss and yearn,
Ears me with your browsing zephyr wands.
Speaks me with your inbound thought,
Touches me with the love of everlasting enigma.
First but none the last,
My awwal hob.
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