My Beloved speaks profundities
and pays dues not His own-
while I, the sober fool,
stumble falsely drunk.
Though His wine warms my heart
and sweetly stains my lips,
it is not potent in my veins-
I am not subject to it's dance.
I drink too little, too less
for the drunkard I claim to be.
--//--
Recently, I've been both intrigued and inspired by the likes of Rumi and Hafiz.
