Whoosh, and pirotechnic
Blooms flush the sight
Al-zahir Al-Batin with
Self-confounding light;
Al-Hakam, the arbiter; Al-karin the
Bountiful

He pummels the dust, ah-malik.
Created in myriad ire: Al-aziz;
His chameleon gaze, Ar-raquib
tells His, tells His praise,
His rosary of plumes.

He screams, I am a jealous God. The
shades flutter.

In a liquid glade worried by kine
God the Almighty harries his feathers,
Trying to fly. In fury his pupils dilate.

Kashim has seen all, confessed nothing,
Sweats. He is there still and
There, whimpers I cannot help
Him, even the Allknowing must try.

morning, dawning

Tortured by cocks, His pride scowls and
retracts.
Kashim has kept no count. He sneezes and
turns
Away. Will He not guard His little one,
arching His
Tenderness, trumpet and thew thumbing
the dark?
Coming, coming to take-off the sky floods
blue and
Lifts, ascending in glory. Released from
dread,
Kashim sleeps on. He wheezes.

Sand-devils course through the runnels of
his eyes.