Number 25

Union itself became the cause of our parting; the very closeness we shared turned into our enemy. Even our dust never reached the hem of anyone; how far-reaching our failure turned out to be. In the meadow our wings were bound even tighter; the trap laughed at the thought of our freedom. We have become the very nature of brokenness; how costly the balm to mend us would be. Since no one bought us at any price, how plainly our true worth has been revealed. We have turned our friend into our enemy; our alchemy lost badly in the bargain. It is hard work to become a barrier to the heart; our failures came to us for nothing. We who only hope to lose ourselves, when would even Khizr bother to guide us! Sorrow showered us gently with its need; there was a freshness in how we stole hearts. Whatever we had, we have gambled away; our poverty was the capital we built upon. Our union did not gladden the generous heart; perhaps our parting will bring it joy instead.