Last night my soul asked a question of existence.
Why are you upsidedown with flames in your belly?
Happy, unhappy, indigo-orange like the sky?
Why are you an off-balance wobbling millstone,
like the Buddhist Sufi, Ibrahim Balkhi,
who was king, beggar, buddha, and dervish?
Existence answers, All this was made
by the one who hides inside you.
You are like a beautiful new bride,
quick to anger, stubborn,
hot, naked, but still veiled.
