August 14th, 2012
TO MY BELOVED:
Verse is dangerous, whether koan or in meter, because the mind tries to decipher what the heart already knew.
I know enough only to know what I do not know.
The wick is spent only with the oil, we know the Lord works miracles, He is our shamash when we decide to serve Him.
Listen to me, teacher, in the cries of a young child there are lessons no instruction can impart.
The light of the moon is now dim, but it will be full very soon.
Tonight is the eve of the feast of Assunta, ya walidata-l-ilah
I yell, am brash, angry and impertinent, arrogant as I prance in public, but in this is only the tantrum of a child, shielding himself from the dangers of ignorant precocity. Psychics and sages, men of art and women of science, prophets for our time, kings of commoners and lords of the elite, all greeted me as I began my journey. I value openness; but I hide everything in complete transparency.
In anguish I grow, in hope I proceed.
I know (now) poets are philosophers, so not knowing I wait, I ponder, I listen.
Still I am trying to hear Yunus:
“A single word can brighten the face
of one who knows the value of words.
Ripened in silence, a single word
acquires a great energy for work.
War is cut short by a word,
and a word heals the wounds,
and there’s a word that changes
poison into butter and honey.
Let a word mature inside yourself.
Withhold the unripened thought.
Come and understand the kind of word
that reduces money and riches to dust.
Know when to speak a word
and when not to speak at all.
A single word turns the universe of hell
into eight paradises.
Follow the Way. Don’t be fooled
by what you already know. Be watchful.
Reflect before you speak.
A foolish mouth can brand your soul.
Yunus, say one last thing
about the power of words —
Only the word “I”
divides me from God.”
I cannot save the world.
But the Ummah of love, of Allah, of light grows!—
there is nothing to save within the Ummah:
in our Union similar hearts bring Jannah to the world,
together we will make the Sangha catholic.
We brought Heaven with us when we were placed on earth,
so that we may continue to plant The Garden
Do not fatigue of the mundane, because only there are the miracles.
Only in the child’s naiveté can a wise teacher be tempted to hope,
Assunta rises on the morrow,
do not mistake the dormition for death!
She wishes to make love to you,
lust for her
I wish for you only your Assunta,
whether she accompanies you in the desert’s wind
or in the companionship of your bed.
In either, the ecstasy will be yours
Remember that God granted Adam the joy of Eve only after he tended The Garden.
Be not the barren fig tree; fruits bursting with divinity & love manifest desires
Jannah within we must cultivate, could the just man let his wife go hungry?
I wondered once whether you were mad, but only in the way I wonder if I myself am
I am male and I am female
As a woman, I embrace you
As a man, I understand you
In the torpor of the barely crescent moon you shot at me roses.
They made the sunlight glint with an aura of perspicacity,
reflections of a hazy bliss,
the ether of the divine
I have never touched you, seen you, spoken to you, or laughed with you
yet these are the coefficients multiplying my love for you!
If I see you, I will embrace you,
To hold you would be to weep with joy
As precious as wisdom you are to me
Long have I sobbed thinking no one could hear me
The ascent of Sinai tempts one to bitterness
for the loneliness of its path makes the desires all the stronger
but disinterest clouds the sight of satisfaction.
Only a chalice of divinity could satisfy our thirst,
we must sense that intense blush before companionship can grow,
did not the others turn away from the face of Moses?
I do not always understand what you say,
when making love not every groan is noticed,
(The wick is spent only with the oil, we know the Lord works miracles, He is our shamash when we decide to serve Him.)
but we do not burn in this life in vain,
our flame radiates in hues of purple or blue
in anguish we grow, in hope Allah will cultivate
Bursting pomegranates will be our fruit, withered figs of the past long forgotten—
JOY is our birthright! If Allah does not surprise with delight, you are not listening!
I am young now
I was placed on this earth with a searing image of beauty,
(our hearts may be similar, but our pain is The same)
to make mistakes now,
to be foolish now.
Everything has a price in this world,
and sometimes the price is to give up forgetfulness of what Allah can do…
My heart quickens at the thought of you,
brother, whom I love,
manifest the image of beauty few are witness to
continue in love, strive in hope
periods of anguish will frequent you
but their intensity and duration will rapidly diminish
-joy will abound!
We labor in the creation of a Sangha of Roses,
Assunta sleeps there,
waiting for you to make love to her
do not mistake her dormition for death!
May your prayers arise to Allah as incense,
and the scent of her Rose assume you into heaven.
Listen to me, teacher, Assunta draws near to you
I know this because she whispered to me once,