Poems collected by Azhar
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I am afraid for myself
Ever since your visit or was it a visitation
your light has been lodged in me,
now I drift somnolent, heady and
the light doesn't stop seeping from my eyes,
people are transfixed by this light,
I ask God-What is this madness?
This madness of carrying another person within me,
God replies-How can you know me if you don't know this madness?
- from "A face that does not bear the footprints of the world"
Ever since your visit or was it a visitation
your light has been lodged in me,
now I drift somnolent, heady and
the light doesn't stop seeping from my eyes,
people are transfixed by this light,
I ask God-What is this madness?
This madness of carrying another person within me,
God replies-How can you know me if you don't know this madness?
- from "A face that does not bear the footprints of the world"
I should have known the Light within the light,
the Beloved within the beloved,
Clever God who reeled me in with the right bait-you!
the sly hand that played us along,
you the stooge, I the fooled.
Go now with the wind,
Like cotton unhinged from the cotton tree.
The exit of one has left room
for the universe to creep back in.
How can you know me if you don't know this madness?
- from "A face that does not bear the footprints of the world"
the Beloved within the beloved,
Clever God who reeled me in with the right bait-you!
the sly hand that played us along,
you the stooge, I the fooled.
Go now with the wind,
Like cotton unhinged from the cotton tree.
The exit of one has left room
for the universe to creep back in.
How can you know me if you don't know this madness?
- from "A face that does not bear the footprints of the world"
We met eventually.
Who knew we were going to plough each other's souls for a lifetime,
reap, harvest, bear fruit, decay and resurrect through each other.
Who would believe the histories that unfolded,
Who would believe that we have not even held hands,
Who would believe the flesh has played no part at all,
For some souls a passing by is enough,
Centuries dart forth and back in a glance,
The universe shifts and is recreated again,
The intellect is wiped out,
Some souls are Love's playthings,
They are destined to Love and accept the hardest tasks,
There is no choice in the matter.
Who knew we were going to plough each other's souls for a lifetime,
reap, harvest, bear fruit, decay and resurrect through each other.
Who would believe the histories that unfolded,
Who would believe that we have not even held hands,
Who would believe the flesh has played no part at all,
For some souls a passing by is enough,
Centuries dart forth and back in a glance,
The universe shifts and is recreated again,
The intellect is wiped out,
Some souls are Love's playthings,
They are destined to Love and accept the hardest tasks,
There is no choice in the matter.
^^^ :-\
Dodgy.##
Some other ones were very nice dou mashaAllah keep it up bro
dodgy erm u did not understand it!! THINK!!!!
Lost in myself
I reappeared
I know not where
a drop that rose
from the sea and fell
and dissolved again;
a shadow
that stretched itself out
at dawn,
when the sun
reached noon
I disappeared.
I have no news
of my coming
or passing away--
the whole thing
happened quicker
than a breath;
ask no questions
of the moth.
In the candle flame
of his face
I have forgotten
all the answers.
In the way of love
there must be knowledge
and ignorance
so I have become
both a dullard
and a sage;
one must be
an eye and yet
not see
so I am blind
and yet I still
perceive,
Dust
be on my head
if I can say
where I
in bewilderment
have wandered:
Attar
watched his heart
transcend both worlds
and under its shadow
now is gone mad
with love.
I reappeared
I know not where
a drop that rose
from the sea and fell
and dissolved again;
a shadow
that stretched itself out
at dawn,
when the sun
reached noon
I disappeared.
I have no news
of my coming
or passing away--
the whole thing
happened quicker
than a breath;
ask no questions
of the moth.
In the candle flame
of his face
I have forgotten
all the answers.
In the way of love
there must be knowledge
and ignorance
so I have become
both a dullard
and a sage;
one must be
an eye and yet
not see
so I am blind
and yet I still
perceive,
Dust
be on my head
if I can say
where I
in bewilderment
have wandered:
Attar
watched his heart
transcend both worlds
and under its shadow
now is gone mad
with love.
Not a believer inside the mosque, am I
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharoh
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
Not in stillness, nor on the move
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
I am the first, I am the last
None other, have I ever known
I am the wisest of them all
Bulleh! do I stand alone?
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharoh
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
Not in stillness, nor on the move
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
I am the first, I am the last
None other, have I ever known
I am the wisest of them all
Bulleh! do I stand alone?
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
The drop dies in the river
of its joy
pain goes so far it cures itself
in the spring after the heavy rain the cloud
disappears
that was nothing but tears
in the spring the mirror turns green
holding a miracle
Change the shining wind
the rose led us to our eyes
let whatever is be open
of its joy
pain goes so far it cures itself
in the spring after the heavy rain the cloud
disappears
that was nothing but tears
in the spring the mirror turns green
holding a miracle
Change the shining wind
the rose led us to our eyes
let whatever is be open
WHAT WAS
Once I was here,
but now "I" am not:
If there's really a "me,"
it could only be you.
If any robe warms
and encompasses me now,
that very robe --
it could only be you.
In the way of your love,
nothing was left --
neither body nor soul.
If I have any body --
If I have any soul --
then, without question,
it could only be you.
Once I was here,
but now "I" am not:
If there's really a "me,"
it could only be you.
If any robe warms
and encompasses me now,
that very robe --
it could only be you.
In the way of your love,
nothing was left --
neither body nor soul.
If I have any body --
If I have any soul --
then, without question,
it could only be you.
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Giving Allah attributes other than what He has already given Himself is a serious matter
http://www.islamicboard.com/basics-islam/15827-do-you-love-me.html#post204591
^ akhi Khaldun's post; a reply to this post.
THE LAMP OF UR FACE
What need
lovers for world's delights
or the moth
for refined pleasures,
"viewing the garden"?
His lips
parched for water of Union
with the Beloved:
what need to chase
the "fountain of Khezr"?
He who falls
in your quarter, what need
for the caravans
of paradise except
to seek your love?
Surrendering his body
to the couch of your disease
what need has he
for the "healing breath"
of Jesus?
If the Friend
did not sit with him
in his retreat, what need
for the cloister
of solitude?
Today he gives up
his soul to separation:
why should he wait
for the promise
of tomorrow?
What need anymore
for glass after glass
of red wine, intoxicated,
unconscious with your
amorousness?
I am that moth
at the lamp of your face:
San'at, what do I need
with the candle
of manifestation?
What need
lovers for world's delights
or the moth
for refined pleasures,
"viewing the garden"?
His lips
parched for water of Union
with the Beloved:
what need to chase
the "fountain of Khezr"?
He who falls
in your quarter, what need
for the caravans
of paradise except
to seek your love?
Surrendering his body
to the couch of your disease
what need has he
for the "healing breath"
of Jesus?
If the Friend
did not sit with him
in his retreat, what need
for the cloister
of solitude?
Today he gives up
his soul to separation:
why should he wait
for the promise
of tomorrow?
What need anymore
for glass after glass
of red wine, intoxicated,
unconscious with your
amorousness?
I am that moth
at the lamp of your face:
San'at, what do I need
with the candle
of manifestation?
There is great joy in darkness.
Deepen it.
Blushing embarrassments
in the half-light
confuse,
but a scorched, blackened, face
can laugh like an Ethiopian,
or a candled moth,
coming closer to God.
Brighter than any moon, Bilal,
Muhammed's Black Friend,
shadowed him on the night journey.
Keep your deepest secret hidden
in the dark beneath daylight's
uncovering and night's spreading veil.
Whatever's given you by those two
is for your desires. They poison,
eventually. Deeper down, where your face
gets erased, where life-water runs silently,
there's a prison with no food and drink,
and no moral instruction, that opens on a garden
where there's only God. No self,
only the creation-word, BE.
You, listening to me, roll up the carpet
of time and space, Step beyond,
into the one word.
In blindness, receive what I say.
Take "There is no good..."
for your wealth and your strength.
Let "There is nothing..." be
a love-wisdom in your wine.
Deepen it.
Blushing embarrassments
in the half-light
confuse,
but a scorched, blackened, face
can laugh like an Ethiopian,
or a candled moth,
coming closer to God.
Brighter than any moon, Bilal,
Muhammed's Black Friend,
shadowed him on the night journey.
Keep your deepest secret hidden
in the dark beneath daylight's
uncovering and night's spreading veil.
Whatever's given you by those two
is for your desires. They poison,
eventually. Deeper down, where your face
gets erased, where life-water runs silently,
there's a prison with no food and drink,
and no moral instruction, that opens on a garden
where there's only God. No self,
only the creation-word, BE.
You, listening to me, roll up the carpet
of time and space, Step beyond,
into the one word.
In blindness, receive what I say.
Take "There is no good..."
for your wealth and your strength.
Let "There is nothing..." be
a love-wisdom in your wine.