Sol 5.6

  1. The thirst for presence grew in my leaves

    So I mended my kingdom with the clouds’ brush

  2. ،

    And became a counterpart to the seasons,

    I recite my prayer

  3. ،

    I read sorrows in the horses’ restlessness,

    I stand in the mire of the expanses

  4. I do not doze

    I contend with the might of days

  5. .

    Between my hands lie the dusts of astonishment.

    Time, in my language—

  6. its spirit encamps

    in a procession of weddings, sowing them

  7. ...

    and drawing upon their brow suns that never set.

    I walk...

  8. ...

    My sail strains upward

    Its flute is gold...

  9. At its feet the wind howls

    tearing from its eye sockets

  10. ،

    ....

    the vines of the impossible.

    I have a destination... and my poem—

  11. .

    I still ride it

    and am addicted to disembarking in its harbors.

gpt-5.6-sol