Rumi's Birthday (September 30)

Mevlana, dear friend,
I would give you birthday greetings
but you have not been born
until now,
and your death already sparkles
in these Autumn raindrops.
Were you ever not here?
We met on an endless journey
Into stillness.
Every atom of my body, an oasis,
every atom of yours, a well.
When we gazed at each other
we could not speak, for our mouths
were filled with the same sky.
And even now we have hearts
that break with one sound,
the scratch of brittle leaves
against the prison windows,
the way their terrible
iron bars imperceptibly ring
with sweet songs of exile
and bondage...
O but if we did not grow old
in these bodies,
what beauty could seep through
our cracked and jagged bones?
This flute makes music
because it has been torn
from a living branch
with seven wounds left open
to bleed poems.
I will say it anyway, Jalaladin,
so that we can play this tragic
comedy of twoness:
you, me - past, future -
two eyes - two lips - two hands -
two natures, human and divine -
two nostrils, one breath -
two wings, one famished rib cage...
I wish you Happy Birthday,
old boy!