The Paradox of Prophecy and Poetry.
Is my love so raised in station that I might in blasphemy assume
The robe of the Prophet
And rejoice to the world in hutba
The miracle of our meeting?
That I might write a book of theology,
An entire philosophy of code
Of living life in symbolic literalness. Unfolds
All this fire of intellect: kindled by your body’s touch!
And now I gather arms, and dream of revolution
Enter the sphere of rhetoric and the depths of a psychic politics
And raise an army
To fight in the name of Love, which my comrades understand as abstract Ideal, and for this Ideal follow my persuasion.
My speech, so inspired, empassions them to wage Jihad for Love, though it be merely words unrequited!
Let there be no confusion, because time withers all Empire to dust
But this Love I recognize alone in you, my ainalyen.
And I stop tonight and pause a moment, catch my breath before I re-enter the fray: what wine of madness did you pour for me
That night in China?
What wine of insanity was it, so drunk that I declared shahada,
As we lay naked together, in union of each other’s stolen souls?
It was, is and will be eternally, the intoxication of your perfection’s charm:
Those lips meeting mine, desire apparent in these bounteous lines
Made manifest my wildest fantasy, I map entire your fertile curves, frantic, eating, drinking you in, as a desert exile returned
And we showered together under the waters:
This sea drowns me and, gasping for air, ecstacy is rendered profound in prophetic voice!
But look: as I write it, so it is immediately misconstrued!
The world will look on this, and through my reading, will see Theology in our sex.
What a paradox of poetry and prophecy I now live
As this Uzbek mistress looks on, amused, silent and, lips licked lasciviously, leads me back to the bedroom.
Oh my sweetest beloved,
Let this play of text itself,
Let it be like kisses upon your form,
Let it be like kisses upon your form.
Let us live like this forever: I write and sing and philosophize to the World,
Declaring my Love in different repetition
That all humanity might be amazed and in awe at what this man has done for Love.
A very public Love affair.
But these utterances are your hijab, my Muslim wife, for through the words
Our Truth is concealed
And your nakedness is for your husband’s gaze alone!