His mouth puckers to the side,
his brow furrows when aware
an assumption crawls around
in the wormwood of his mind.
  
Every  misconception,
unrecognized at first
swells within, until
his error bolts forth
like lighting on the prairie
breaks the swelter of
a summer day.

Meditations sooth his disquiet ,
perplexed by her perfection
he searches for scars in blossoms,
and defects in tree leaves.  His mouth
grows dry as he mumbles
"there is no perfection."
If he finds a flaw
upon her cheek,
or a birthmark
on her shoulder
will his love fade?

Eyes staring ahead,
his mind in a trance,
he ruminates phrases
" stay open," "remain tolerant"  
wait for flowers to bloom,
rains to come and
her to remain
incomprehensible.

We have met once before.
You lined the sky.
Mostly with blue.
Sometimes with pastels.
You threw up clouds.  
Smiled translucent rays.
Exhale fresh of lavender fields.
Let me explore you.
Run through you like a field.
Embracing every grace me with your presence.
Soak into me with your intoxication.
Fill me up from every pour.
Step into this.
Get me lost.
Deep into your winding paths.
Pour out of me.
Spit love off my fingertips.
So I can touch things with true love.
Let me be something.
More than anything I want to be your something.
Filled up and dripping with acceptance.

I never wanted nature
to represent hope
or the Sun or the Moon
to become my home
I never wanted the stars
that fill the night sky
to interrupt my empty thoughts
as I sat idilly by
I never wanted humanity
to slip beneath my skin
or the birds in the trees
to remind me
that I too, could fly
if I only had wings
I never wanted to pass
the couple on the street
and see their linked hands
and just understand
that's always never going
to be me
I never wanted to shout out
with another's smoke scratched
voice
but apparently
it's not a
choice

Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure
Your Name on my tongue is the sweetest word
My choicest hours
Are the hours I spend with You --
O Allah, I can't live in this world
Without remembering You--
How can I endure the next world
Without seeing Your face?
I am a stranger in Your country
And lonely among Your worshippers:
This is the substance of my complaint.

I have loved Thee with two loves -
a selfish love and a love that is worthy of Thee.
As for the love which is selfish,
Therein I occupy myself with Thee,
to the exclusion of all others.
But in the love which is worthy of Thee,
Thou dost raise the veil that I may see Thee.
Yet is the praise not mine in this or that,
But the praise is to Thee in both that and this.

Eyes are at rest, the stars are setting.

Hushed are the stirrings of birds in their nests,

Of monsters in the ocean.



You are the Just who knows no change,

The Balance that can never swerve,

The Eternal which never passes away.



The doors of Kings are bolted now and guarded by soldiers.

Your Door is open to all who call upon You.



My Lord,

Each love is now alone with his beloved.

And I am alone with You.
__

- Rabia al Basri

From Perfume of the Desert – Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom

Edited: A. Harvey and E. Hanut

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?

At this particular time I have no one
Particular person to grieve for, though there must
Be many, many unknown ones going to dust
Slowly, not remembered for what they have done
Or left undone. For these, then, I will grieve
Being impartial, unable to deceive.

How they lived, or died, is quite unknown,
And, by that fact gives my grief purity--
An important person quite apart from me
Or one obscure who drifted down alone.
Both or all I remember, have a place.
For these I never encountered face to face.

Sentiment will creep in. I cast it out
Wishing to give these classical repose,
No epitaph, no poppy and no rose
From me, and certainly no wish to learn about
The way they lived or died. In earth or fire
They are gone. Simply because they were human, I admire.