by Hushmand Fatheazam
Elegantly trailing His robe, He departed, leaving no trace behind,
like a pleasant breeze that blows by, then instantly is gone.
He sent to the world a lightning glance from His eyes
that set ablaze a fire from which no heart was immune.
I hastened eagerly to sacrifice my life in His path;
My life was offered up, but, there was no life-taker there.
Uselessly I wept beside the rose bush of hope –
what good were flowing tears without the flowing Cypress?
I pleaded, “Perhaps I could but seize the hem of Your robe!”
“Depart!” said the Beloved, “Depart, for you possess no such craft!”
Certainly a drowned ant cannot make its way out of the sea,
nor can a wounded bird fly to the heights of that sublime nest.
Nearness to the Friend requires both search and merit.
It is my salty luck that I possess one but lack the other.
Unless I be a particle of dust that settles on His robe,
there is no way apparent for my reunion with Him.
Thus, I will become dust in His path, and the Beloved will pass by,
that traceless Friend so unlike any other in the world.
O my heart, glad tidings be unto you! Reunion with the Friend
is not at all remote from the beneficence of that Kind One!