41.
only portions of what was overflowing through him
could be captured to be encased in his letter
in fact, it is more true to say
he did not write the letter
instead he was the pen that moved the pen
of a greater force writing
the markings on the paper were only traces
of an evasive whole
that could not be ensnared
though the reed flute blew a beautiful song
but he was not its composer
“in the name of the most beneficent creator
whose creation reached its apex
with the birth of layla
who has tempted me to the iniquity of idolatry
my ka’bah she hath become
that sacred house for worship of thee
it is in the direction of her beauty
i turn to exhale these prayers of love...
“thy name is the salve for my wounds
the memory of thee,
the medicine for my disease of devotion
oh layla,
the only cure for mine infirmity of life is thee
thou art the last surviving abode for mine hope
the sole reason my breaths have not expired
afflict me not with betrayal
for if thou dost,
not even hell would be able to contain my pain
and already immense is the pain i bear on earth
its enormity surpassing all description...
“thou speaketh of us being prisoners, my beloved
but i am only a prisoner to thee
into thy night all my days dissolve
not even the rising sun removes that darkness
thou hast sent me words to inspire encouragement
but they have only burnt me to the core
a path of ashes to mine heart they have left
that only reveal the pain of my pain,
and pain more
the reading of thy words i cannot survive
yet neither is there survival without words from thee
within thy sight i long to be
a gaze that will surely steal my life
such is the madness of love’s martyrdom
that seizes what remains of me
remnants that seek to be an emptiness
filled by thee alone
layla alone,
only layla...
“every phenomenon points me to thee
no thought is a thought
unless it revolves around thine axis
mine only peace emanates from imagining thee
the world is only alive because it contains thy life
so i must ask,
how much longer wilt thou remain
a captive of thine husband
is all escape truly impossible
must i petition death to visit his bed
or can we toss all rules of piety aside
and unite as rightful lovers
even if smeared with the taint of social disgrace
and sin...
“although thy chastity i doubt not
with jealous rage am i overrun
for i am denied thee and have lost myself
yet thine husband remains himself
and is at least within thy presence
is this a testimony of the universe’s justice
or is justice a farce that taunts the reality of love
yet still,
my life is scattered beyond trace among these
abandoned sands
waiting for thee to walk upon them
refuse not my wish to have the soles of thy feet
trample upon me with thy grace and beauty
until this comes to be
i forget myself to be naught
sacrificing all i was for just the hope
of being with thee
upon the path of grief this annihilation i bear
the torture of this meager survival i suffer
i have withstood countless afflictions of
unseen massacres
an assortment of miseries continue to consume
my being
i’ll brave them all without relief of complaint
as long as you are not harmed beyond despair
if you keep hope, i will find a way to endure
until our separation is overcome...”
he didn’t even sign his name
instead rushing the letter into the old man’s hands
he begged with the force of the entire universe
for the old man to deliver it to his beloved
with god’s speed, if not faster
so the old man,
pulled into the zeal of these lovers,
rushed down the mountain slope
with racing breaths
he jumped upon his horse
to become a speeding orb crossing the valley
then a plume of dust
rushing toward its own disappearance
❍ ● ❍