As the ocean waves of the king take us in to shore, we give ourselves to the motion.
At the banquet where we will be the main dish, Isaac leans his head down for the blade.
Only love has power over lovers. Death has none. The beloved is giving as he appears to take away.
Breath diminishes as spirit flows stronger, a falcon released to the wild.
A lover dies like Hallaj from his own words, but not spoken in anger.
I will stop now before I say what cannot be said.
Shams is climbing up over the horizon, snuffing whole banks of star-candles.
Adam A. Azim 