Zeb Ghauri (1928–1985)

All outlines are lost, all sights, all landscapes and me
They’re one again – the sky, sea, shore, and me

A secret word being a mirror to the heart
A haze spread from scene to scene, and me

As the maiden wind teases when it passes on
But silent for so long are the deep sea, and me

How well known they are to each other, Zeb!
Those coconut trees, these stones on shore, and me

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