A cut
fragile skin
‘What do you hold?’
Paper thin
—-speckles of dust
…
She looks down
in the space that sits her heart
—‘Who defines the edge of me?’
She asks
…
A glass sits on her desk
filled to the brim
with clear water
‘What do you hold?’
She asks,
—the sea
——the clouds
———–the rain
…
Is it the cells, the bones, the veins
the heart, the breath
—-breathing
——–‘Where am I in all of this?’
…
Is it the elbow leaning against the table
The ear listening to a distant voice
Maybe the thought of a cup of green tea
—Who defines the edge-
the edge of me?
She tilts her head towards the horizon
her eyes find the crescent
A pause
…
..
.
How far is a step
—When edges are no longer defined by me…
Ancestors…
How strange! How can a lover sleep!
Sleep isn’t allowed for one who loves!
Freewill is the effort to thank God for Her Gifts:
when you negate freewill you ignore that generosity.
Giving thanks for the capacity of will
increases your power;
relying on destiny’s course takes the gift from your hand.
Believing in predestination
is like going sleep on the road-
don’t sleep! Don’t sleep,
until you come to the gate and reach the threshold!
Mathnawi I:938-942
In this heavy light
I sit,
every inch of me
wants to run.
And to remain
…how do you remain?
Within the entangles of movement,
we are all here,
this moment.
Trying to remain,
dancing with Glances in the dark.
La ilaha illAllah, La ilaha illAllah, La ilaha illAllah…
