As everyone drifts off to sleep,
I am still staring at the stars.
Separation from you does have a cure.
There is a way inside the sealed room.
If you will not pour wine,
at least allow me half a mouthful
of leftover dregs.
Secretly I fill my sleeve with pearls.
When the love-police detain me,
let your moon come down
and hold me in its arms.
Officer, I know this man.
I will take him home.
Let my wandering end as the story does
of the Kurd who loses his camel.
Then the full moon comes out,
and he finds what he lost.
These rocks and earth-forms
were originally sun-warmed water,
were they not?
Then the planet cooled
and settled to what we are now.
The blood in our bodies carries
a living luminous flow,
but watch when it spills out
and soaks into the ground.
That is how speech does,
overflowing from silence.
Silk on one side,
cheap, striped canvas on the other.
Rumi, Spilled Speech
