In sync with the cosmic rhythm
Where lonely camels roam, dunes in darkness lay
And myriads of stars glow in disarray.
Solely the morning star, lone wanderer, shines bright
And thus illuminates this dark Arabian night.
As the gleaming eye of heaven rises in the East,
wake the weary nomad and his weary beast.
And as it reaches zenith, the heat burning the flesh,
they reach their destination: the vibrant Marrakech.
Explosion of colors, spices galore
Sold on bazaars selling infinitely more
A snake tamer plays his tunes in a trance
and the dervishes do their habitual dance.
And with every turn, every swish, every sway,
Unfolds like a dream the Arabian day.
'Til the sun sets again in this wondrous land
To darken once more the kingdom of sand.
Oh you fretful bee!
All Heaven and earth are yours
God never runs empty
When you see sin
If you still see it
Keep blinking until you no longer see it
this is the way of the Mystic
At the end of this way is the Promise
In the ecstasy of her love
I felt like a dervish
Wanting to whirl dance
And came into my arms
In the melody of her whispers
Our bodies swang,
Our gaits swayed in the rhythm and
Claps of the onlooking air-waves
While our souls danced to the drums
Of our heartbeats...
If he were alive today,
I would send birthday wishes his way.
For he fills my heart with happiness,
As his words sing out with spectacular displays.
From beyond the stars, beyond the moons,
Beyond the galaxies and the milky ways.
His words continue to resonate
His flute carries them this way.
His legacy around for hundreds of years,
His message, one so clear.
Combining and encouraging all nature to be,
All loving and sincere.
© Robert Kingston 30.9.15
A poem to celebrate the life of Rumi. Written for his birthday. He remains as one of my favourite poets.
Even shadows choose to whirl
lithely in the beams,
romancing other silhouettes
seeking revelation in their dreams.
Compassion, do not hasten them,
nor wake them from repose
for in the moment two dreams alight
the awoken lover glows.
Stand boldly in love’s mystery
as slings and arrows sail,
through the strident journey
hush, listen for the nightingale,
who’s song seeps through a cloven heart,
mending fragments into one;
seek the source that hides unbroken
in the brilliance of the Beloved’s Sun.
— The End —