Indent of Your Sole

I wonder what your feet are like, soft, delicate, petal-shaped,

Carved of milk, of heaven’s milkiness,

With each step, the earth rejoices a little more,

Many have walked this earth, many have prayed and many have risen,

But none have had your grace.

Everyone sees the moonlight, how many have seen the waxing phase?

In the indent of your sole, lies such a half-moon,

If I were to bow and touch your petal feet,

Would the gentle calmness of the moon also flow in me?

The Song of the Sufi Masroof