Ask no more, O' Parvaneh

Yet again my footsteps stumble
upon the shadows of my creviced heart --
like my beloved's fickle promises
that trip over the sand of my mocking hourglass,
and shatter...
Yet again,
I scatter every unsaid prayer in my restless bosom
over the choking silence of the listening sky --
like a moth would itself into a burning candle.
Oh what is it about Love
that we too beckon each other into annihilation?
And what is it about Love
that we too in our separation are one?
Ah!
Between candles and moths
Between fire and passion --
perhaps exists a space,
where halved-souls secretly become whole.

O' Parvaneh!
Why burden your chest with faltering impeachments?
Does not your beloved know
that moths burn themselves into ashes in their ecstacy?
And, have you not heard the tears of the flame too,
as she consumes her lover's besotted wings?