That Alone

There's much we pour into this world,
In bonds of friendship and love.
Glittering like a sea of stars,
A flower bed of winter flowers,
So pleasing, beautiful, to the eye.

In their beauty lies a falseness,
A reciprocal arrangement,
Chunks of momentary happiness, madness.
And yet, we keep on pouring.
Hoping.
Hankering.
Only a fool can hope to fill his cup,
From the emptiness that saturates this world.

Each day as we grow,
Evolve into something more than we started with,
We learn to hold, to pour ourselves unto the highest cause,
To lose the noise,
To know that alone which is worthy of us.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof