Share this story
Close X
Switch to Desktop Site

Sufic Slants

and the thought where will I be in autumn and will any of these ever recall that single moment of total identity or will any of these mourn; of places: half-seen of people: half-known or memories: half-faded but sometimes it is sad then there is a melting that dissolves, expands me to the hushed air the sinking sun the pale moon, the tree the rock, the grass, the leaf the bird in flight; there is a fish I hear that battles against the stream and wins