Someone said “No matter where I go, some poet has been there before me.” I concur. Or some artist, or some musician… And sometimes, it’s the poem that writes the poet . . .
O my Lord,
the stars glitter
and the eyes of men are closed.
Kings have locked their doors
and each lover is alone with his love.
Here, I am alone with you.
from Doorkeeper of the Heart: Poems of Rabia. Translated by Charles Upton