What if the ocean were the word
and God were the wave
what if mercy were a pun
and love the greatest joke of all?

I am broken, here, in the last
of poetry. Rumi, you lush
loveable devil – I die
to know you, and weep
because I do not.

what if the stars were the hymn
and God were endless cold between?
What if mercy were a rhyme
and love the eternal lack of meaning?

I am alone, here, in the last
of poetry. Rumi, you thin
reed of hope – I can not reach
you to save me. I can not weep
I only scream as I fall.

what if the colors were the novel
and God the banal?
What if mercy were our lips
and love the words we’ve all forgotten?

I am here Rumi
where are you?