Kimya

-continued from Dance of Love (An ode to 40 Rules of Love)

As we danced,

abluted away with love—

Kimya watched.

She stood still,

wrapped in the hush of midnight,

wearing her love

like the first dew on the darkest night,

melting quietly

into the breath of a frosted dawn.

Her shawl,

a whisper of the softest silk,

hugged her—

body honeyed and warm,

fragrant with the purity of lavender

untouched.

Her eyes—

they did not shine.

They burned,

gently,

and we—

we were blinded.

Her love

was no mere song—

it bore through our hearts,

a silent arrow

of unbearable grace.

And so,

we no longer swirled.

We drooped,

like wilted petals

on the bereaved Earth.

Our vanity—

our rules—

Shams Tabrizi's laws—

they scattered,

like dandelion tendrils

on the breath of surrender.

Kimya stood—

arms wide,

a soft crescent of surrender,

embracing all the Universe of love.

None of it reached us.

She wrapped it

gently

into her shawl—

and left.