One Swaying Being

Love is not condescension, never
that, nor books, nor any marking

on paper, nor what people say of
each other. Love is a tree with

branches reaching into eternity
and roots set deep in eternity,

and no trunk! Have you seen it?

The mind cannot. Your desiring

cannot. The longing you feel for
this loves comes from inside you.

When you become the Friend, your
longing will be as the man in

the ocean who holds to a piece of
wood. Eventually, wood, man, and

oceans become one swaying being,

shams Tabriz, the secret of God.

 NEXT Poem