Where Beauty Was Born

I asked the wind,
I asked the rose,
Where did Beauty begin?

The wind laughed.
The rose blushed.
“Child,” they said,

“Beauty was never born -
She always was.”

Before the veil of stars was hung,
Before the wheel of time was spun,
Before Adam rose from clay,
Before Iblis burned with pride -
There was Beauty.

Not form. Not face.
But the shimmer of a sigh
In the breast of the Beloved.

Before thought split the sky into “I” and “Thou,”
Before the dance of light and shadow,
Before the pen scratched “Be!” across the void -
Beauty was singing.

She does not speak in language.
She is the language.

She does not walk.
She moves the soul.

I am dust longing to whirl again
In the dust of Her skirts -

Let me forget my name
And remember only
Hers.

Oh Beauty without beginning,
Oh flame before fire,
Oh kiss that carved the world -
Take me home
To the wine-dark silence

Where You are all that ever was.