FATE, THE MAGICIAN

There's so much in this poem; colour, visual imagery, the moon and the warning at the end...
I found it many years ago in a book, 'The Imperial Agent' by T.N. Murari, which continues the life of Kim, the boy in Rudyard Kipling's book of the same name.
A character in 'The Imperial Agent' says it's an Urdu poem, by Nishani, court poet to the Emperor Akbar, originally written in Persian - about Fate.

FATE, THE MAGICIAN.

The old Enchanter, in his patchwork cloak,
Sits weaving spells to bind us to his throne,
While, seeing nothing in the turquoise vault,
We dwell in fear, uncertain and alone -
Forgetting that one night he made the moon
(By magic from a fish with silver scales),
Which in his blue glass bottle, flecked with stars,
Unerring on her course serenely sails;
He closed the stopper with a thousand seals
Of wax the candle of the moon supplied,
Since when no mortal has evaded Fate,
However long, however hard, he tried.

I love the imagery - a fish's scales make the moon, which is also a candle; our universe is in the blue glass bottle... The more I read it the more I find in it...
I hope you like it, too.