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O’ Cup-Bearer, reveal Thy flame,
Let not this weary soul grow tame.
No earthly drink can touch the deep,
As one true glance that makes me leap.

Through barren lands my spirit roams,
Unchained, unbound, it seeks its home.
All vows I made, all oaths I swore,
Were swept away when Love’s door tore.

Pour not from cups of earthly clay,
But let Thy gaze light up my way.
No goblet holds the wine I seek—
I drink the glance that makes me weak.

What need of wine, or earthly grace,
When Thy pure light fills all space?
O’ stream of truth! O’ starry gleam!
Engulf the world, and birth the dream.

I know the tavern, I know the door,
Where souls are lost and spirits soar.
Strike out my name, my transient breath—
And write me in the book of death.

Not death of flesh, but death of “I”—
That I may in Thy Truth arise.
Thou art the Flame, the Sea, the Sky—
The Breath where all the ages lie.

So pour, O’ Bearer, pour the light,
Let soul be drowned in Thy delight.
No glass remains, no self, no shore—
Naught but Thy gaze, forevermore.
Gaze of the Infinite 13/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
The conscious sea arrests hold of me,
Collective knowledge streams to my head,
With new eyes of three, I now can see,
I’m swimming in secrets of the dead.

A tideless sea, of consistency,
Not up nor down, behind or ahead,
All Life dissolved in pure unity,
All life woven from a single thread.

One drop is whole– The Entirety,
Reality fits on a pin’s head,
Uprooting all I thought there to be,
Replacing it with nothing instead.

Thoughts absent beyond duality,
And time crawls while elusive and sped,
All is formless unfettered and free,
And no words say what needs to be said.
The conscious sea arrests hold of me,
Collective knowledge streams to my head,
With new eyes of three, I now can see,
I’m swimming in secrets of the dead.

A tideless sea, of consistency,
Not up nor down, behind or ahead,
All Life dissolved in pure unity,
All life woven from a single thread.

One drop is whole– The Entirety,
Reality fits on a pin’s head,
Uprooting all I thought there to be,
Replacing it with nothing instead.

Thoughts absent beyond duality,
And time crawls while elusive and sped,
All is formless unfettered and free,
And no words say what needs to be said.
You…

with your eyes fixed on fire,
on skies that never blink.
You’ve memorized verses,
but forgotten how to think.

You search the wind for commands,
while hearts beat beside you,
unheard.
You shout the name of God
but miss Him in a stranger’s word.

Look down, brother.
No-“ - look around.
See the dust,
the children,
the cracks in the ground.
That’s where truth spills,
quiet as rain.
That’s where faith lives
not in thunder,
but in pain.

There’s no ladder to climb,
no sky to ascend.
The divine is not distant
He’s the hand of a friend.

So loosen your grip.
Unfold your fists.
The kingdom you seek
already exists.
This piece is a gentle plea to those who seek the divine only in the skies, forgetting that the sacred often lives in the eyes, hands, and hearts of the people around us. True spirituality is not escape, it is presence.
Nick May 2
We eat, we sleep, and we pray.
But who do we pray to?
Is it the ones who promise us salvation
but only give us disease, darkness, and blood?
Or promises of hope, love, and flair?

We starve, we wake, and we sacrifice.
But who do we sacrifice for?
For the ones who only take, take, and take,
and give not even a dime in return?
But only death, darkness, and blood.

I look at the heavens and see light,
but not lights of hope or redemption,
only lights made to blind us and bind us—
to show us we are unworthy of them, of the divine,
to make us feel like envying them is a crime.

I search wide and far for a story without any bar,
a story where they were selfless and not so afar,
a story to help us dream and reach the sky—
not act as silent observers of the moonless sky.
But all I hear are hopeless cries of mine.

Who are they to decide what we are, what I am?
Who are they to decide my fate and worth?
Who even are they, when they haven't felt the pain of existence?
only seen the suffering from their lofty thrones afar?
All I see is cruelty and worthless promises, hearts as black as tar.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 26
Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur,
meets a human being—who holds a mirror!
Until now, the number, knowing only sway,
has been lost in discovery’s polished way.
No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye.

Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves,
new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height,
only to bag the ultimate truth:
Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first!

Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind,
across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides.
For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop;
the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock!

Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows,
clustering atoms span between the two,
only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion—
intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning,
in Makkah and Medina, while she lived.

The red fairies at midday’s spot-on,
the black swans arching rainbows in wonder—
marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw,
the maestros’ dream of ascension,
potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos,
between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo.
Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow—
nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto!

Rainbows shaded in, sparking out,
the scent of roses in her veiled black hair:
the cosmos anew glinting off her edge,
deeper quintessence than dark matter!

The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements.
The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes.
Yet beyond the masses’ gaze,
she remains Zahra—light upon the original way.

Truly, only one feminine form has reached across
the other end of the cosmos' endless highway,
zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi,
the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine.

Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases,
shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night.
Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!
Simon Bridges Apr 21
When there's no thought
               For tomorrow today
When yesterday fails to exist  
It’s like being breathless
The relative moment is now    
            And you gasp
Grip life hold it close
Close enough
To accept every nail
Driven deep in your body  
                                  By life
Becomes no more
Than a point of reference
Upon which to hang clothes

When in the moment
                        Your presence
Fills a bandstand
                   A park
A promise made as a child
            When I grow up......
Hold yourself close to each minute
                                      Be breathless
Tucker Dobson Apr 23
I sit with my sin held out
Filth mucks up my hands
And still He sits, not leaving

"Lord, surely I must do some-"
Laughs, touches my hand
"Simply be in what I've done"

"The Lord has Coffee with Me"
Omaha, N-E
April the twelfth, 'Twenty-Five

I look upon Him
He looks back
Peace and joy mingle

He abides in you
[Vine and branch]
You abide in Him
At the Mill on Leavenworth.
Kenya83 Apr 21
Fall, fall
Fall into your own divinity
Seep into the sacredness of your soul
Your cells are dancing with the universe
Particles of you entangle with the creator
Release those tears
They are cleansing the energy of worlds
This moment is alchemy
When you connect with the supreme
You’re feeling your own majesty
Fall, fall
There is nowhere to fall
But home
Simon Bridges Apr 21
I'm pupating
Without the privacy of a cocoon
                           Maturing in full view
Shedding skin that thins and softens
                          Throughout the years

      I'll outgrow my body
Due to mortal limitation
       Break free from flesh
Emerge beyond physical
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