Down By The Temple

It’s quiet down by the temple
and yet the air vibrates as with thunder.
The bronze face of the gong ripples like water
kissed by breezes at sundown. Hush!
Do you hear the footstep,
see the sunflowers turn their heads
toward a brighter sun?
Do the silk banners stream out
reaching their painted hands
toward the approaching Guest?
Does the stone under your knees
reverberate: Allah, Allah
and your bones feel the echo
Allah, Allah
in the trembling bronze
Allah, Allah
and the whisper of silk
Allah, Allah
and the tears of flowers
Allah, Allah
and the stillness of air
Allah, Allah, Allah.