Play no music but the soul’s, that friend who sometimes takes a form like Joseph, a handsomeness that tears coverings, beauty that says secrets and gets bewildered.
As dogs lap blood, we drink life. This is how we are with love’s melody, a taste of springwater, birdsound near.
Wherever Jesus walks in time and space, there is a robe. This is it.
The sun was born from the friend, not out of an east-west convergence.
We move as particles. That motion is all we need do.
Shams became our friend, so we are friends with sunlight.
Adam A. Azim 