Have you seen the angels come down, wielding
their fiery sledge-hammers? Have you heard them shattering
the glass walls where limits live? Those now are yielding.
Sometimes the angels pause to scold, nattering:
"Do the most exquisite blooms grow in a greenhouse?
Fool! Do you really think you can keep the divine
ishk at bay? Let the wind of the spirit move and arouse
you! Open your breath. Be God's libertine.
By bearing these panes, just who are you saving?
An old man creeps to his death bed not having lived.
But if these walls come down, he's out-braving
demise, and takes with his passing a joyful gift.
Be stalwart then! Better to ride, perforce,
a wild moose than suffocate indoors."