Tomorrow I go to House of God,
Circumbiating the Ka'abah with my pain starting from spirit's black ache
Chanting Allahu Akbar whenever I align with a door leading to me.
In the first six rounds I would pray:
Oh Allah, thou carry masculine tag, so you understand the language of men,
Let the feminine element within my innerself understand the language of men
In the seventh round I would say:
Heavens, I have imagined love pouring on me from another religion, my God
Curse me the way your unrepentant servants are cursed
* * *
I shall invent an eighth round, baptising it the departure of ego
Running in the opposite direction and to the dark my right wing holds onto
Whereas my left wing on space of pain hugs to
* * *
Abraham's shrine will move from its place, standing behind me and praying two prayers blessing freedom that emerge from depths
You are the shrine, and you are shelter, God says
The Angels reply: she is the shrine and shelter
* * *
God will open a hole in my/his soul, to be a marriage's indication of our blatant souls
And coming back in a patchy spirit, such as something like "the Chinese membrane"
A sufficient spirit to let another God fell in illusion.