Spring rain is here again just as the moon doth wax and wane
I hear the santour and the daf and for a moment give in
to the dance of the universe, turning is the earth
as does the water flowing down the drain
in circles; I want to churn around
like a darvish, you won’t find
me in the mosque or
church or temple
but rather
look to
the wind
the clouds
the rain and black
earth where all sleeping
things begin to return from
the unknown to grace us with their
gifts again and they care not what names
we have assigned them, it makes no difference
to the Tuberose, the pink jasmine or the purple crocus
what we call them and we are not the center of existence
-
Archives
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- August 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
-
Meta