In this drumbeat moment of red flowers opening
and grapes being crushed, the soul and luminous clarity sit together.
All desire wants is a taste of you, this moment
that is like two small mountain villages
where everyone longs for presence.
We start to step up. A step appears. You say, I am more compassionate than your father and mother. I make medicine out of your pain. From your chimney smoke I shape new constellations.
I tell everything, but I do not say it, because, my friend, it is better that your secret be spoken by you.
Adam A. Azim 