You talk to the mud walls, entreating them with pleas. And tonight you will be awake awaiting your Love.

Tonight the hennaed sky will be calm till you meet him. He has promised to come, but your lips quiver, "Will he?"

You had travelled high and low looking for his magic, you have seen Mecca, you have seen Mathura searching east and west for him.

You skin has whitened to the color of bleached whale bone, your eyes have gone dry. But tonight he will come and color you with himself.

He will pour one color after another onto your burning skin with his cool hands, he will smile at your mock anger and wash you with his love.

Tonight the darkening sky will rain: only after he meets you in Paradise. He has promised to come but you still fret in anxiety, "When will he come?"

So you talk to the mud walls.

2002:05:18 13:15 Atlanta

Inspired by a qwaali written by Amir Khusrau, a Sufi poet and sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.