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Come...come... let’s you and I

abandon the city of vultures,

          leave the region of “you” and “I”1

          and obtain a passport

          to the traceless realm,

Where no clocks are made

          and minutes are not sold,

Where the Khezr of good fortune

          has stitched pre- and post-eternity together,

Where they do not point to numbers

          and dust is not sold for gold,

Where breaths cannot be counted,

          where eternity, from end to end, is just one breath,

Where you

          will be I

          and I


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