The Konya Well
My breaths are coins in the Konya well,
my wishes unknown to me
The ski tracks behind me are memories
of Someone I used to be
My mind is a moonlit night,
my body's the break of day
What's left is wrong & right;
opposites always at play
This moment's an iron gate
that opens on love & hate;
tread through to the upcoming fate
for the living and all who are late
Rumi walks with me every day,
searching for Shams, who still is away
Leave all goals now, and go astray;
all foundations are made of clay
My breaths are coins in the Konya well,
my wishes unknown to me
The ski tracks behind me are memories
of Someone I used to be
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2024-02-10 at 10:39
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