Of these two thousand I and We people, which am I?
Do not try and keep me from asking. Listen, when I am this out of control, but do not put anything breakable in my way.
There is an original inside me. What is here is a mirror for that, for you.
If you are joyful, I am. If you grieve, or if you are bitter, or graceful, I take on those qualities.
Like the shadow of a cypress tree in a meadow. Like the shadow of a rose, I live close to the rose.
If I separated myself from you, I would turn entirely thorn.
Every second, I drink another cup of my own blood-wine. Every instant, I break an empty cup against your door. I reach out, wanting you to tear me open.
Saladin’s generosity lights a candle in my chest. Who am I then? His empty begging bowl.
Adam A. Azim 