As I plodded my pitted path
A pebble pricked me
A sigh escaped my lips
And the pebble cried.
O ye heart! To be in love
Is your Fate
And to be waylaid
Is my Fortune.
We partake of the same Destiny
You dwell in God’s compassion
I am enshrined in His house.
You sway the hearts of kings
I glitter in their crowns.
You throb in hands entwined
I nestle in their rings.
You blazed, you burnt
You cried, you yearned
Placed on the anvil
Into a heart you were honed.
I was chiselled with thistles
And worshipped in temples
Crouched in a poor man’s wall
And eternalized into the Taj.
Man often made
A stone of you
And at times
pound a heart
We drink from the vials
Of our corrosive woes
Multitudes have trampled You
And multitudes have trampled Me.
(This poem compares the fate of a stone to the fate of a human heart. The house of God is the kaaba and the stone is hajr-e-aswad.Like human hearts, stones have a different destiny.Some are destined to be in the house of God, some go under feet others go on the top of the head, another in the heart) .
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Comments about this poem (Touchstone by Humera Sultana )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(22 March 1941 -)
(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972)
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