I desired to praise the Chosen One and was hindered
By my own inability to grasp the extent of his glory.

How can one such as I measure an ocean, when the ocean is vast?
And how can one such as I count the stones and the stars?

If all of my limbs were to become tongues, even then –
Even then I could not begin to praise him as I desired.

And if all of creation gathered together in an attempt
To praise him, even then they would stint in his due.

I have altogether ceased trying – awestruck, clinging to courtesy,
Tempered by timidity, glorifying his most exalted rank.

Indeed, sometimes silence holds within it the essence of eloquence,
And often speech merely fodder for the faultfinder.

Ibn Juzayy al-Kalbi_

“All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
And I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
But who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
We glow and in the evening we glow again.”
― Rumi

The moon shines in my body

The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it.

So long as man clamours for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught:
When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.

The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.

Kabir ♥ ♥
Translation: Rabindranath Tagore

It speaks to me in the silence of this one
then through the words of that one speaking;

it whispers to me through an eyebrow raised
and the message of an eye winking.

And do you know what words it breathes into my ear? It says,

"I am Love: in heaven and earth I have no place;
I am the Wondrous Phoenix whose spoor cannot be traced.

With eyebrow-bow and arrow-winks I hunt
both worlds -- and yet my weapons cannot be found.

Like the sun I brighten each atom's cheek;
I cannot be pinpointed: I am too manifest.

I speak with every tongue, listen with all ears,
but marvel at this: My ears and tongue are erased.

Since in all the world only I exist
above and below, no likeness of me can be found."

♥ Fakhruddin Iraqi ♥

Do not overlook my misery,
by blandishing your eyes and weaving tales,

My patience has over-brimmed, O sweetheart!
why do you not take me to your bosom.

Long like curls in the night of separation
short like life on the day of our union.

My dear, how will I pass the dark dungeon night
without your face before.

Suddenly, using a thousand tricks
the enchanting eyes robbed me of my tranquil mind.

Who would care to go and report
this matter to my darling.

Tossed and bewildered, like a flickering candle,
I roam about in the fire of love.

Sleepless eyes, restless body,
neither comes she, nor any message.

In honour of the day I meet my beloved
who has lured me so long, O Khusro

I shall keep my heart suppressed
if ever I get a chance to get to her trick.
AMIR KHUSRo____________________♥

Love

O Love! thou makest all things even
In earth or heaven;
Finding thy way through prison-bars
Up to the stars;
Or, true to the Almighty plan,
That out of dust created man,
Thou lookest in a grave,--to see
Thine immortality!

Sarah Flower Adams

A Psalm of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A pious one with a hundred beads on your rosary,
or a drunkard in a tavern,
any gift you bring the Beloved will be accepted
as long as you come in longing.
It is this most secret pain,
this bleeding separation,
which will guide you to your Heart of Hearts.

Abu-Said Abil-Kheir

My Luve

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly spring in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

Love

When you love someone so deeply they become your life, it's easy to succumb over whelming fears inside. Blindly I imagined I could keep you under a glass. Now I understand to hold you I must open my hand and watch you rise...

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

You asked,
what is the scariest part?

I answer;
the scariest part
is not the feeling of loneliness
or the darkness that fills you
despite the looming pain
of emptiness

The scariest part
is the realization
that you have completely lost yourself
completely
sinking in as you lay awake
at 2 am
because you lost the ability to sleep
and you can't even cry
because you don't even care.