Few years ago I lost my grip on earth reality
and dwelled in a place where tears of bliss filled me daily.
I remember so vivedly,
as I had never felt so close to insanity.
My heart imploded and I cried happy tears for what felt like eternity.
I was so confused at what was happening, having never experienced such ecstacy for no such reason.
I remember telling myself, whatever happens from Now, it doesnt matter.
For experiencing this, nothing will shatter.
It comes unasked, unmasked, unnoticed.
Complete surrendering presence.
It could not be understood or named,
Only dwells in sweet deep silence.
And when I read of mystics who speak of such experiences,
I cant help but weep from rememberance.
Uss Ne Kaha Kaun Ho Tum
Main Ne Kaha Hasrat Teri
She asked: Who are you?
I said: Yearnings of your heart
Uss Ne Kaha Takta Hai Kya
Main Ne Kaha Surat Teri
She asked: What do you see?
I said: Beauty of your art
Uss Ne Kaha Chahta Hai Kya
Main Ne Kaha Khidmat Teri
She asked: What do you desire?
I said: To forever serve you
Uss Ne Kaha Pachtaega
Main Ne Kaha Qismat Meri
She said: You might regret
I replied: That’s my luck for you
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Like a greedy beast.
Time removes our youth.
Life flutters by and death looms at the end.
Time is so finite,
Life so fragile.
Take those reigns of life,
and make them your own.
Remove your face from that radiant screen,
look upon reality.
Find your life born anew,
in a light of sweet redemption.
I see myself in you—
With a spike we two spoke out,
Vagaries of wind, verisimilitudes
And the moon gives us her light.
Black bird, black robed Druid,
We both are spinning round
The hills draped in psalms
Of the oak and windy leaves.
Your words, I hear, go unsaid,
My utterings babble, ring in a rill,
Cold and cascading to mosses,
Bleeding from a lone escarpment.
In the butterfly I see,
The soft seeding of mystery,
In the buzz of bees,
There are immortal histories,
As the wild geese fly,
I hear monks chanting on high,
In crow of craven rook,
There is wisdom more than book,
By heron there is knowing,
Cycles of life in still waters flowing,
In sky for all to witness,
Clouds shaping our dreams, limitless,
In symmetries of snowflake,
Are whispers louder than any thunderclap,
Swans in sky, if we would look,
Hum their wings as babble from brook,
In a blade of green grass,
Their are running grains of hourglass,
In temple of solitary pine,
There is a scent intoxicating as wine,
At the ponds edge are fables,
Deep as the sun sparkling on its tables,
In dear wood there are fires bright,
In the eyes that hear and see at night,
On the great oceans are crests,
More shining, noble than any kings breast,
In the grey, lowly moth I see,
A wondrous butterfly wanting to be.