From my waxing to my waning, and from the void of my moon to its crescent From my pursuit to my flight, and from my steed to my gazelle From my breeze to my boughs, and from my boughs to my shade From my shade to my delight, and from my delight to my torment From my torment to my likeness, and from my likeness to my impossibility From my impossibility to my validity, and from my validity to my deficiency. I am no one in existence but myself, so- Whom do I treat as foe and whom do I treat as friend? Whom do I call to aid my heart, pierced by a penetrating arrow, When the one who shot the arrow is my eyelid, striking my heart without an archer? Why defend my station? It matters little to me, what do I care? For I am in love with none other than myself, and my very separation is my union. Do not blame me for my passion. I am inconsolable over Him who has fled me.
~Ibn 'Arabi ~
~Ibn 'Arabi ~
