I've heard that a certain man lost his camel.
He goes everywhere, not finding that camel.
He falls asleep in the desert by the side of the road,
tired and thinking now he's through looking.
Late in the night he wakes up full of that loss.
The moon comes rolling out like a white ball
on the huge, empty polo field of the sky.
By that light he sees his camel standing
in the middle of the road. His tears
come easily like a quick rain.
He turns his face up, wet and shining.
How can I say what you are with your light?
Let this be a night like that one.
Each second the moon tells us,
Be more passionate.
We should shine back and tell it the same thing.
It makes us restless.
It grieves for us.
Take it inside you,
that One whose Presence
is water.
We are the stream,
searching along.
That One is musk.
We are the way musk smells.
Why not spray ourselves?
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