His Pure Presence

A goat eats grass off the Beloved’s hill
and gives white milk to the Beloved’s Messenger

O body of seemingly little worth
discarded at our entrance to the

truer life
you are our road to Light troubled or

at ease

pockmarked with road-ruts or
smooth as Sahara dunes

and though we leave you behind

how precious we’ve been born in you
and travel in your

rubbery vehicle
on hidden bone tracks

to moment after moment of
space-time perfection

in an eyeblink

here one minute
the next minute

spatial

our gaze unceasing over all

The Prophet came among us
grew to manhood

died

yet his pure presence is as palpable
as space itself

Having drunk the milk we
drink each day

giving up food and drink
for a moon-cycle

for God’s sweet sake alone

8/11 /11 11 Ramadan (from Ramadan is Burnished Sunlight)

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