There is a space beyond
this need for wings,
or the wings inside wings.
Stop arriving.
Just know you are
always here.
Through a broken fence
the plum branch has been reaching
all Winter for the blossom
it already held.
Once known, the fragrance
does not need the petal.
Majnoon went mad in the forest
imagining that the daughter
of the King was someone
other than his own soul.
This poem was painted
with the light of the full moon
on the bone ceiling of my emptiness.
If you know who drove
Majnoon crazy,
you are truly my Friend!
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