by Jalaluddin Rumi
how light and colorless it is,
because of your changing. Your soul
don’t see it working, but there’s
[five] feet or so, but your soul rises
corked with earth and a raw wooden
spile keeps the oldest vineyard’s wine inside.
When I see you, it is not so
much your physical form, but the company
of two riders, your pure-fire devotion
and your love for the one who teaches you.
Then the sun and moon on foot behind those.