The Last Introduction

By Raashid Naqib

My world is naked

My thoughts are spineless

My will is all the evil

My words are not even mine

The more I dream; the more it pains

My heart is the temple of the dead

I too desire her in my bed

I am the most corrupt when it comes to lusting

You who wish to admire the man in the beast

Come to where I live; breathe deep inside my conscience

Do I not know that the ego is my foe?

Yet, I come to claim you in my arms

My passion is, however, morose and indifferent to I

When the end wants to be revealed; the game of life has been lost

‘Tis the greatest gamble of my Soul

I’ve played it all in to win her heart

What will I take with my body, and into my grave?

My wisdom, my deed, my defeat, or only my face?

I had warned myself against the end of time

I remember; writing to I that night, with my blood

You who has yearned mischief and thus sowed the seed of the other kind

Come, for, it is the season to reap that which belongs with thee

Her absence did not kill her love but, her manners have

Is it too early to wake the Moon? Let’s let the night be

Though I longed for my own attention; I am yet to care

Have’em write about I that he suffers in all the lives

On the day of eternity, and before tumbling down from the pitcher

I must have promised something in return; cannot recall a past life

Remind me, Oh! My disbeliever; truly, how dishonest have I been?

Is it true that I am friends with Satan himself, in my dream?

Alas! Alone faith could not suffice the ever ungrateful among the creation entire

I think it’s opportune; to withdraw, now that I’ve told myself the secret

When the earthquake’ll come unto where will you go, pray tell?

The Sky is no longer thy pal; the Sun is burning nigh

To be a fragrance upon her dress of the pleasant value

To be a rose on her hair; on a balmy evening

Ooh! I’ve prayed, so do not tell me that I am insane

Now, watch the Lord acting in mysterious ways; to keep His nature afloat

I could not keep my love for long from the betrayal of her intention

In this story; I had to be a murderer, and butcher my own heart

Her memory is forbidden and so remains etched somewhere inside I

The sage is not of piety’s making, for, he hath lived a life

My youth has deluded I; my sins reach to the bottom of the Hell

I’ve ravaged my innocence willingly, repeatedly, and this once only for fun

Was I born with the great madness; dancing in my brain bare?

Not right now, dear Paradise; the world is full of dirt and deceit

I speak as if I alone am my sole concern

Why do I come to hear myself talking over the meaning of the song?

By Raashid Naqib