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#sufiana
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.
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Fractured Poetry
Beautiful mosaic Of a fragmented heart Made of clay and And broke apart. Parched by drought What more brings rain to remembrance of the Beloved’s name. It is in my silence that You hear how my burning thirst mouths a drought of tears. Hearts pump harder when we bleed, as Absence sounds the hollows Of the waiting reed. Into enormity of emptiness, the vastness of the beloved to disclose The sweetest water ever sipped – by the lovers parched and longing lip – is the fragrance of the wine red rose.
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
Parched Earth, Quenched Heart
The Beloved enters like a mist When in stillness Softens a kiss Disarms my words eludes my eyes No empty pages the ink run dry Hours gaze from a clock with no face free from the hands of time and space Pulsing chamber of light that of a lantern of a wayfaring messenger She says "I am not writer, I am written"
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
"I am not writer, I am written"