I see the lamp, the face, the eye, an altar where the soul bows, a gladness and a refuge.
My loving says, Here. I can leave my personality here. My reason agrees, How can I object
when a rose makes the bent backs stand up like cypresses?
Such surrender changes everything. Turks understand Armenian. Body abandons bodiness. Soul goes to the center. Rubies appear in the begging bowl.
But do not brag when this happens. Be secluded and silent. Stay in the delight
and be brought the cup that will come.
No artfulness. Practice quiet and this new joy.
Adam A. Azim 