You have polished the mirror that now you shine within. Any direction I look I see your engraving.
The sun asks the inward sun, When will I see you? At sunset.
But why does reason keep me from drowning in your love? What use is this being rational inside majesty?
As many earrings as are in the world, that is how many answers you give that question.
You give the questions too. Any piece of broken pot handed me from you is gold.
Every second the call comes. Who considers meanness within such generosity?
During the day we slip in and out of your tree
like limb-shadows. At night we wait for dawn.
Adam rushed to be punished
because punishment was a kind of reconnection.
There is an ocean inside surging with praise for you, but I close my eyes, hoping you will talk.
Adam A. Azim 