My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
For His love I can find no substitute,
And His love is the test for me among mortal beings,
Whenever His Beauty I may contemplate,
He is my "mihrab", towards Him is my "qiblah"
If I die of love, before completing satisfaction,
Alas, for my anxiety in the world, alas for my distress,
O Healer (of souls) the heart feeds upon its desire,
The striving after union with Thee has healed my soul,
O my Joy and my Life abidingly,
You were the source of my life and from Thee also came my ecstasy.
I have separated myself from all created beings,
My hope is for union with Thee, for that is the goal of my desire

In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?

Escapes my lips when I have nothing to say
Gives me compliments when I'm good at nothing else
Lifts me up when I'm down
Moves me when my heart is still
Loves me when no one does
And I love it back

Music is a complex language communicated bye the heart an soul of its performers.
Beats and rhythms communicating emotions that we have lack of words to describe.
someone who can understand music
In all its forms and beauty  
Is someone who can understand me.
And the deepest parts of my soul.

As my hands touch the ivory keys
of my beloved piano, the excitement,
and creativity begin to flow within me.
Each key played in tempo, not one note
missed.

The echo of each note played,
resounds throughout the whole house.
Making a gloomy spirit, rise and rejoice.
Feet begin to move, and claps are heard
now.

As I continue playing the classical
piece, my body sways with the beat.
My nimble fingers running up and down
the keyboard move so fast they can’t be
seen.

Like day turns into night, my song
comes to an end. The clapping,
and the moving feet come to a  My fingers relax and I stand and take a
bow.

Tis not my mind
Nor my heart
Tis not my word
Nor my speech
These rhythmic impulses
Striking gently against my nerves
And dripping...
These droplets of harmony  
Absorbed; on the pages of time
This verse or perhaps a tune
This theme or perhaps a symphony
To be sung or perhaps unsung
To be heard or perhaps unheard
Yet splashed and imprinted
On the score of a lovers heart
I be the lover; Him be my beloved
As I looked up to the heavens
And drank the pouring rain
Cascaded down from my beloved's abode
To soak and fill the cracks of my imagination

And you my friend!
A passersby;
In quest of your beloved's song
But when your beloved sings not,
Return..
Within,
To hear your silver chimes
Hear once and hear again
How the tumult ends
Rewarded or unrewarded
Never you are empty handed
Hence leave your instrument of doubt hither
On your stage of tenet
But seek and return; again
And see with each return
How your orchestra rises, how it plays
How you hear and how you sway
For then, you'll be the lover
But only He will be your beloved

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon