A broken reed. No longer <br />its feet in earth, its stalk in water; <br />what will become of it? <br /> <br />Taken by grace; cut; shaped <br />into new name, new form; <br />breathed into it, the breath of life; <br /> <br />the breath, heard by a song <br />unmanifest, that waits to be born <br />from cause to mind to sound: <br /> <br />how can this sound be described, <br />the joy of broken reed now flute? <br /> <br />Now the reed can sing; speaks <br />of how it cried its loss; <br />yearned to find itself again; <br />knowing in its heart <br />that wholeness waits, somewhere, for ever; <br /> <br />now it sings for joy, so purely that <br />no ears, no heart, can resist its call; <br />nevermore to part the reed, the flute, the song.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sufi-2/
