You bind me, and I tear away in a rage to open out
into air, a round brightness, a candlepoint, all reason, all love.
This confusing joy, your doing, this hangover, your tender thorn.
You turn to look, I turn. I’m not saying this right.
I am a jailed crazy who ties up spirit women. I am Solomon.
What goes comes back. Come back. We never left each other.
A disbeliever hides disbelief, but I will say his secret.
More and more awake, getting up at night
spinning and falling with love for Shams.
Adam A. Azim 