Milk and honey flow from the distant mountains. The stream gouges a valley and floods the heart. THE NIGHTINGALE waits calmly in a patient slumber. He is alone and the shadow is long. He catches the first scent of his Love. He lifts his head. He looks up and all around. He has heard, and his tender heart begins to beat faster and faster. THE NIGHTINGALE rises with the moon. He knows that the sweet scent came from somewhere in the desert. Through an open gate, from within, he hears a voice and catches the first scent of THE DESERT ROSE. He whispers to the flower, "O, desert rose, I heard your voice in a dream. I smelt your Ivory petals. But, tell me, where are you now?" THE DESERT ROSE calls back to THE NIGHTINGALE but the bird can no longer hear her voice and sips from his old flower one last time. Burnt on the coals of the seraphim, he sears his little beak! A covenant of the prophetic wish is made. He hovers into the dusk, leaving the old flower behind. He knows there is another world that awaits. Twilight and a crescent moon. Still air! and yet he senses that the zephyr is blowing. He knows that soon the wind will come and carry him away. He will seek the open gate and his True Desire, THE DESERT ROSE that called his name. "Come to me," she said. "Come to me, Nightingale; come; come to Jerusalem; come and be my lover."