To praise someone, comparing them to moons,
I cannot find, 'cause few are pure from within,
But oh, I don't mean free from any sin;
Those who utter unheard, mystical tunes.
I want a friend like Shams, around the noons
Of a thousand reveries, where I've been
Since the beginning all alone – my twin
Of the soul! where are you when the night croons?
You are somewhere, somewhere between the fake
And real, the existing and non-existing,
The night and day, the veiled and the exposed.
In short, you are asleep, and I awake,
And when I sleep, you are awake. I sing
And wait, and wait, while not composed.
This sonnet was inspired by the friendship of Rumi and Shams. I could not resist playing upon the name of Shams, which means 'sun' in Arabic. :)