On First encounter with Rumi.

Sitting, watching, pondering, wandering.

Istanbul bookshops and bizarre bazaars; favourite city,

Oozing my childhood testament from every pore,

City battered and beaten and rocked to its core.

“Simon! Simon! Phillip wants your money, pay up or die!”

Armies marching, marching, marching; did you hear that Mr March?

Constantinople; Byzantium; Istanbul.

Three Cities in One, like Jerusalem.

Three in one – there’s an idea.

But there is only one God.

Papal Bulls hit the Templars.

No decrees, though actually Nisi and Absolute.

Two degrees – well done old chap; I’d rather do the three degrees.

I watched as the stray dog described my mood,

Mooching, searching, lost; hoping for any sign of affection.

Affectation – can I borrow you pen?

Highlighting and delighting;

Whoever brought me here will have to take me home!

You moan, “she left me,” “he left me,”

Twenty more will come.

Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?

The waiter serves Fish – ‘I caught it myself’.

More beer.

Drink all your passions and be a disgrace.

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