I pitched my tent beneath the burning rose
where smoke and silence were my only friends,
and what I saw there, only Allah knows

and He will guard my secret. Simple prose
cannot reveal, through its too rigid lens
what filled my tent beneath the burning rose.

But lyric lines—at least so I suppose—
may faintly echo something that transcends,
for you to hear. (But only Allah knows.)

Then, if you join the company of those
who only labor to fulfill God’s ends
and pitch their tents beneath the burning rose

with wordless smiles we’ll greet you, and dispose
of verbiage that only blurs and bends
the Truth we’ve glimpsed, that only Allah knows.

And thus our caravan of pilgrims grows,
who seek the Friend, in company with friends
who pitch their tents beneath the burning rose
and hear, in silence… only Allah knows.
leon4

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