Layla stood there hoping that
the wind rippling through her silken robe
would carry the scent of her love to Majnun
while Majnun stood there hoping
that the breeze would carry
from her forbidden encampment
the scent of Layla’s love
to meet his own and merge
When the north wind blows cold
with snow to blanket the shivering earth,
when the biting eastern wind
comes with the rising sun
that sparkles on the morning frost,
when the warm, scented southern breeze
comes with the sunlight bringing the earth to life,
when the gentle breeze from the west
blows briefly as the evening sun departs,
may I know you, My Beloved,
to be that fierce wind, that gentle breeze,
standing where they arise,
blessing me with silent air,
blowing my spirit towards that place
where there is no ‘to’; no ‘from’; and no ‘away’.