.
.
The sky-wheel turns us into dawn
and fills creation again with color.
.
Let it be our weakness, this thirst-love
for the world, the sun coming up
like red-gold being poured!
.
The potter's wheel moves,
and shapes change quickly.
.
Let the jar I am becoming
turn into a wine cup.
Fill me with your love
for being awake.
.
I'm no hypocrite renunciate.
Call me this delicious substance
you taste when you create new beauty.
.
Be strong, Hafiz!
Work here inside time,
where we fail, catch hold
again, and climb.
.
~ Hafiz
.
(The Hand of Poetry, Inayat Khan and Coleman Barks)
.
