And a God who is nearby
Within these gillyflowers, at the foot of yonder lofty oak,
On the stream's awareness, on the plant's law

I am a Muslim
The rose is my Qebleh
The spring my prayer-carpet
The light, my prayer stone
The field my prostrate place
I take ablution with the heartbeat of windows
Moon flows into my prayer, gently it flows
The rock is visible from behind my prayer
All particles of my prayer are illuminated
I pray when the wind calls for prayer
From the cypress tree’s minaret
I practice my ritual when weeds say God is Greater
When wave raises

My Ka’ba is beside the brook
My Ka’ba is beneath the acacia
My Ka’ba is lid the breeze, blowing from garden to garden from one town to another town

My Black Stone is light of the garden

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