Number 3

Lord, by the truth that you are the one who knows all secrets: who has any news of our friend who set out on the journey? Where was that traveling moon, and where has he gone? He who guided us on the road of certainty, a wayfarer through every stage. We told the companions of the path: he was healed, everyone who drank a draught from the healer's chest of remedies. In the month of Safar, word reached the king of the world that this moon had journeyed away from this treacherous realm. He was a prince of faith, yet a king of certainty; to this the beloved ones all bore witness. Blessed moon, your journey has carried you far away; from being parted from your face, all souls are wounded. Your longing carried you to the threshold of God; your love carried you to that gathering of lights. That master has not died, for he is alive forever; he simply made a sudden journey from this house to that one. Qasim, in grief at losing you, sends flowing again and again a flood of tears from lashes over his pearl-shedding eyes.