Be
looking
thru the eye

not from it

the eye
be looking

the eye
not be seeing

An eye
be empty
of sight

until
its filled with looking

Allah my dear Lord
everyone wishes me
happy birthday today
though I still ponder when
my mind was born, o my Lord
I wish to thank You nonstop!

I wonder when did You pen
my birth set my destiny on the flow.
Why then - I feel like I saw
the ocean floor was dry on that mo
that very one ocean making drop
didn’t dance, then it didn’t billow!

Maybe because once all that start
be on the move then take a pause
but I wish to thank You nonstop.

There are exceptions like I bumped on
in Your awesome varied creation.
There is one that lives on the grave can’t swallow
You created that endless love time ago
and wrapped in it my soul in the core.
I did my little splash - my debuting first go
rose over the rainbow but sways to a full stop.
Dwarf me now start to realise why the sea below
turns a stand-alone dewdrop on the rose!

Like a broken sleep in the middle of the night comes
the next moment with a broken dream only seen half
and all the memory goes lost with the unseen half.
The nightingale buzzed up singing on the new dawns
on my memory lane though was yet to bloom a rose!  

The first light paints heaven on earth so clement  
retouch it just to blow it onto the rose you can.
Shines a light on the move dip in the polished angle
picturesque beauty unleashes amid the day’s sunny show
one more punter basks in it gets two more eyeballs.
The cutie that was yet to pop in the shining galore
stays in the fence cutting all the corner gets in the loop
and the sun showers its balmy blue light on this Moon!

One world scattered across the board
deep in the water is a one connected dot.  
One endlessly variant one ever-fluid on diverse flow
embarked timeless time ago yet that's on the row.
Off to the half-seen dream my day lo
entering the twilight zone, it sets on the go.
Yet to live the mo, no rope no continual binary code
up to the dream when can I ever draw O my Lord!

Help me, when You do that I can see the magic
even when blowing the husk off a small seed
rainbow laces blow out opening the arch of blue sky
the small patch of land I touchdown turns to gold dust
what crosses in my mind then is any one’s lucky catch!

Eying on that endless love that took my dream away
Paradise the butterfly on its wings is ever on the fly.
Punting down the serene shadow of heaven all the stars
confluence for the final constellation on their highway
dwarf I though yet to act on the meaning of my dream
thanks to You let me share with those larks my script.
Wish comes true may their lips break into smiles
their sky wall keyhole to open stupendous painterly spirals.
Raise me high on the tangent dear Lord I am running dry
pour me Your potion of mercy in my dew splash sea of elixir
so I can break my fast sipping that o my Lord no one dies!

The Sun was a no show.
Raindrops begin to bead off the brim of my straw hat.
This beat continues until it slurs into a stream.
The thought to leave never crosses my mind.
Downpours are downright hypnotic, magic made real.
The eye of the heart opens to the rain's musical incantation.
And there it stands, the doorway to infinity.
Inside is surely unknown, but to have the great beyond exist,
within the turning of fingertips is unreality itself.
I suppose the power of this muse lies in its mystery.
Yet still, I forge endlessly onward to annihilate the enigma of it all.
I'm sitting here, in the rain, watching these words turn about.

Its
only
cure


seeing
beyond what is

Laying low and waiting
in the grass, see the sky.
Light above is grating,
caught, perfect, in your eye.
How the moon guides you by
its untroubled movements.
Pristine, untouched, how thy
hand makes no improvements.

With the spear you’re weighting,
once again you will try
in the dirt translating
(caught, perfect, in your eye)
that unbroken line. Lie
that your own amusements
could hold that light. Each sly
hand makes no improvements.

While you stand hesitating,
I place your hand on mine.
“Look,” I say, “duplicating,
caught. Perfect, in your eye,
the moon reflected, spy.
Despite the light’s influence,
to your beauty, his high
hand makes no improvements.”

In vain we satisfy
our heart with our reply.
All of us are truants--
all of nature’s students.