Poet's Corner
Section Eighteen
Miscellaneous verses by
Jamiluddin Morris Zahuri
Recent - miscellaneous
not catergorised

I thank God for the joy that I can see,
On that fair face, so very dear to me;
See, the morning sun is lighting up the stillness,
Of a shining pool, smiling at a cypress tree.


The sight of those ruby lips transports us to ecstasy,
Shattering our inclination to pious vanity;
But beyond ecstasy further the lover wants to go,
To find in that vision the source of its reality.

Touching Poetry

Few today care much for the poet's art,
It seems obscure - from daily life apart,
Well and good it may be as they say,
Until some verse touches your heart.

What to Wear

What to wear today, green, red or blue?
And will it go with this kind of shoe?
My love I wish you understood,
Its not the clothes its you, its you!

Dawn's Child

O child of the early morning meditation,
Float as a bubble on love’s great ocean,
Buoyed up by an innocent firm intention
To reach the shore of that final destination,

And when I am free to follow, there you will greet me;
And as I arrive, sitting on the shore you will be,
Counting pearls, next to many a discarded shell.
Singing sweets songs of eternal youth as well.


Desperation to be forgiven, is given,
To the mind that by anguish is driven;
A vehicle it is, by which one can reach
The haven of Merciful God's heaven.

Mystical Verse

It is no surprise if some verse is obscure,
God alone draws back veils for the pure;
So if puzzled by these mystic themes,
Contemplate a little and then no more;

Unless in the heart, a sun rises, unbidden,
Or the moon by clouds is no more hidden.
Then, in that light, maybe you will discern,
Your own bemused reflection, of a sudden.

Love in Hiding

Ah! So say to Love, 'Where are you today?',
'Hidden in your anxiety, I stay',
Yet the rose will unfold gradually,
Fully intending its beauty to display.

Love and Reason Confer.

Love came in, and to love reason said,
“Your way causes me to lose my head“,
Love replied, “I do not doubt what you say
But still Love you know must have its way.”

So reason sighed and spoke again,
“Still my concerns let me explain,
To blindly follow the impulse of the heart,
Can lead to difficulties, its not smart”,

‘Ah this I don’t deny, but that is lust’,
Love said, ‘Not my way at all, be just.’
‘But people confuse you two for sure,’
Came the retort, ‘Most are not that pure’.

‘What you say is right enough’, love averred,
‘Some clear distinctions may be preferred’,
‘But The Merciful draws such a fine line,
To Him the problem must be referred’.

‘Though twins to a stranger both alike seem,
Familiar friends do not this a problem deem.
So here is the key to open this difficult door,
Be familiar with us both – that’s the scheme’.

‘So if lust answers the door instead of me,
You can just turn away quite easily.
My follower for him will have no time,
So know us enough, the difference to see!


This is the time, in wine and roses to take delight,
The time to stay drunk, morning, noon and night,
The time with wild eyed lovers at love to play,
The time to drink deep from love's cup, is today

So do you hear what i say?
Say it again and again I say,
The time to drink wine is today!
The time to drink wine is today!

There are days to bear the company of the sober,
But it is not this day. I don't have to think this over,
Today is the day to indulge the heart in love play,
The time to drink to the landlord's daughter, is today,

So do you hear what i say?
Say it again and again I say,
The time to drink wine is today!
The time to drink wine is today!

There are ways I know to be better and wiser,
To learn from a knowledgeable and good adviser,
But today, a love song is better, just hear what I say,
The time to drown this mean world in wine, is today.

So do you hear what i say?
Say it again and again I say,
The time to drink wine is today!
The time to drink wine is today!

Feel-good Days

O Jamil take the  path of gratitude, you should,
To find your way out of the dark oppressive wood,
This is the simplest way, to what is fair and good,

It leads to  where happy hearts work and play,
Where early morning dew shines in the sun each day.
Where book and brook and loving look bid you stay.

Where sorrows melt like that warming ice-cream cone
And joyful children laugh at a silent mobile phone’
Where love human and divine merges - you not alone.

And if you want to linger and not go elsewhere,
Then make heartfelt gratitude your daily prayer,
They will welcome you the kind and good folk there.

But understand this too, that place is not somewhere,
It is in your heart, so its here and  there and everywhere!
It is when ‘better living’ has become your daily prayer.


O The scent of sweet sentiments, it lingers on,
The pebble sank but on ripples the moon still shone;
My heart was softened by your kindly looks and words,
And the love song remains, though the singer has gone.  

How am I

When not happy, joyful I am,
When not joyful, happy I am,
When neither of these I am,
It is only because I think, 'I am'!
When I am not, then both I am.

A  Reflection

The look in your face, so full of grace,
Embraced my soul, but stayed in its place,
In that clear, silent, deep, dark holy pool,
It seemed the moon got a second face.

What a Great Place!

I must drain this cup of wine to the last dreg,
The master of love gave it straight from the keg,
Its not the first tavern i have been in,
Though to praise its virtues, how to begin?

O sing out my heart in appreciation of the wine,
And of the taverns, all so excellent and fine;
Don't ask me to play favourites though, I pray,
Each reaches to perfection in its own way.

But this I can say, praise God for the street,
Full of taverns, and the dust of the Beloved's feet.
O tavern keepers all! Pray accept our salaam,
And forgive if in your cups we did any harm.

Unrestricted Compassion

Beware, do not restrict compassion to your own kind,
This it is that has put poor man in such a nasty bind.

Compassion at home may be a good start,
But stop there, and all mankind falls apart.

The evil that all so readily, but feebly, deplore,
Could it be it starts at your own closed door?.

No matter that a person does not look or talk like you,
With such considerations what has compassion to do.

Feelings for relatives and friends is all very well,
But at the cost of others  - surely the road to hell.

Charity is also for the stranger at your metaphorical door,
Its restriction is only that it is intended for the poor.

Of course guard it from the fraud's evil intent,
Bur even then be gentle and just a little lenient.

To refuse courtesy to one who is not ‘one of us‘,
Implies you think that God is only on your bus.

Such stupid idolatry is the unforgivable sin,
Extract it from the mind and bung it in the bin.

War, rape, murder and the abuses we deplore,
Arise from breaking this sacred and holy law.

So do not inquire of the stranger at that door,
If they are like you in some way, less or more.

In God’s Hand is the power to test our heart,
Through one who appears  not of 'us' to be a part


Humble piety is to give due respect to divinity,
In intimacy, friendship’s dues we pay certainly,
Broken-hearted sighs now from the lover are due,
But by veil concealed, the Beloved waits patiently

Doctor Love

When coldness does this heart affect,
O beloved please hardness deflect;

When a lover lies dormant on the ground,
With the guard of grace please surround.

Place the salve of beauty on forehead,
Love’s devotee is lying down, not dead.

It may so happen love will pass near,
And wonder what is happening here;

One glance only from love will surely do,
More than a learned doctor is able to.


O the sweet ease of my room - books in easy reach,
Where sometimes saints and angels come to teach!
O beloved so many thanks for this heart's ease,
May it produce good works that You will please.

But in truth it is Love's never ceasing overflow,
That makes the room with Your sweet presence glow.
So to Your Love may my attention always be drawn,
It make this fragment of the universe fragrant like dawn.

oct '13

Touching Music

Maybe I touched a chord somehow, unintentionally,
You came alive, like a violin in a maestro’s hand,

Or like the reed flute, feeling that breath inside;
Sweet notes issued from those lips open wide.

I know not if it was a happy song or sad lament,
Whatever its intent, through the body shivers went.

I struck that chord again, the song became wild,
Then died and rose up again, a new born child.

Singing like that is something so very, very rare,
There is nothing like it, nothing  I can compare.

Your vocal chords, were instruments that moved the air,
But it was like the unveiling of a song, already there.


A gentle man in grey coat in a graveyard stood,
Yes a  poet he was for sure, and very, very good.
From his pen flew many immortal lines, until,
Not in a graveyard but in the hall of fame he stood.

Love Comes in the Morning

Morning - and in breezed the perfume of the Beloved’s hair,
And in the heart, curling waves of agitation arose there! (Hafiz)

Oh I don’t want to be one of the walking dead,
I want the thought of
you always in my head.

When I walk, talk, shop, or lie in my bed,
Or simply potter in the garden or the shed.

I want to be aware of
you in my heart,
And from Your presence not to depart.

I want
you feeling me as I do you,
I want to feel you seeing with my eyes too.

I want every face to be
yours somehow
But I don’t want to know how.

I just want it to be how
you want it for me,
Leaving no trace at all of what I used to be!

I want this new life - the life of eternity, now,
I want to be in love everyday somehow.

All the qualities good or bad disappear,
Leaving just this love-feeling here.

Whether it alters or not the actions I do,
Matters not as long as lives this love for

Whatever I write, think, or do,
I want it to be in, about, and for

If I pray formally or not is up to
But the real prayer is just loving

These wild words I want to hear from you;
‘Don’t you know love I want this too.

Don’t you know I have become  you‘,
When not two what need of ‘me and you’,

Don’t let words keep us apart,
This life is just the lounge of an airport,

Its here now but soon the flight will depart,
Pray, buy a souvenir, meet someone and part,

Whatever you do sooner or later the flight flies,
May God forgive our errors, deceptions, and lies.

Remedy the harm we may have done,
If only because a life of love we have begun.

You burn bright inside with a new life,
When? When with your eyes He sees your life,

When with your hands His actions He performs,
When He takes you and your life reforms,

Let love be the prayer and the response

Oct 5th 13

Bright Words

Seven oceans of words and more inside me I see,
Daily rising fresh like the sun, they appear to be,
Diamonds dancing on the waves in the morning light,
Hiding the depths we dived into during the night.  

The Triumph of the Arch

The arch of the eye-brow a poetic device may be,
But that poetic device is aiming straight at me!
The bow of your raised eye-brow an arrow released,
And that arch-villain, your eye, made a captive of me.

In a Manner of Speaking

In the short-hand of chat ‘I miss u’ you say,
In the poet’s verse -
‘I grieve you were away
‘I want to be with you everyday’ - you say,
It means
‘in oneness with you let me stay‘.

The important thing is not the style in which we speak,
Neither in plain words nor elegant phrases we tweak.
It is the sincerity of heart we invest in these,
That the feelings of warmth and love release.

All Good

All things come from God so why ask the saints my lad?
All things from God are good but we think some are bad:
Those saintly souls are purified humanity, of Adam’s fold,
What God gives through them will only make us glad.

Opened Up

Like London’s tower-bridge your eyebrows you archly raised,
And through those eyes this tall-masted ship passed, amazed;
A great city lay open to the sky, when your heart opened up,
But I never expected that love, or the fireworks you displayed.


Charity is giving to the poor, we doubt that not,
It is to give what you have and the poor have not
Love and money are not weighed in the same scale,
In fact any attempt to measure love would fail.

So from giving money, love do not expect,
Though you may gain prestige and respect.

Heart, you poor beggar, the Good God gives love to you
With how much money a person has, it has nothing to do.

Truth to tell, love is not charity since you own it not,
In fact love is your owner - you as a slave it has got.

If love you think you give, you give what you have not,
The love you think you give, God gives does he not!

Persian Archers

O  perfect Persian archers - mole, eye and lip so refined,
Eye-bows at the ready and with arrows well supplied;
Be careful where you aim those flighty shafts tonight,
Hit a mirror and from your own beauty they will say you died.


O I know when I start sleep walking like this,
Unfeeling the heart, and prayer a chore is.

Heart what is the matter with you? Asleep you are;
The beloved is present here and now - not far.

Yes bring the wine O wine bringer, I am too sober,
And that’s a bridge I want to quickly pass over.

Poetry records what you feel and how you are,
Even when love languishes seeming so far.

Grace comes from the friends I have, lovers,
Who lived and live still, lovers and love-givers,

From the rivers of light that flow from holy books,
From the beauty found in the beloved ones looks.

Ah listen to good advice that came to me,
In the words of the holy book for all to see;

If from sin and vice you want forever to be free,
Strive day and night for the soul’s present purity.

And on this the wise agree unanimously,
Love, Life and Liberty are gifts of God to thee.

Praise be to God and gratitude to the guide,
For the expansion our heart now feels inside.

The fine poetry of Hafiz is speaking freely now,
Words of beauty through  illiterate Jamil, somehow.


The end of the day and a quiet mood predominates,
Sleep slips in unannounced and this story it relates;
In low seductive tones, it says; ‘Come in my arms sweet,
Embrace me, accept your inevitable defeat!
Come, worries and cares I will take away you will see;
Prisoner or jailer, pauper or president, are all alike to me.
The Eternally Awake and Aware made me a nightly snare,
Come and for my brother death I will help you to prepare.


Obscure the metaphor but very real the deed,
When that fruit I peeled and its ripeness revealed:
Love is the fruit’s ripeness, a love to deeply feel,
Taste the fresh ripe fruit – but discard the peel

In the sleep of forgetfulness, I dreamed I bled,
In the thorns of self-reproach was enmeshed,
When for release from this plight I pleaded,
“The thorns are there to wake you up” You said.

Walk On By

Do not become entangled in that thorn bush patch,
Intellectual branches grip, while emotions scratch:
Walk past the way that the wise have taught you to do,
Or you will bleed until the guide has rescued you.

To come out, here is what to do, in phases,
Force your thoughts into short, sharp, phrases,
Then part from the idea that the emotions are you,
There is a famous verse that may be of help too,

Recite it often but don't even try to guess why,
It goes:- 'Which of God's gifts would you wish to deny?'
' Fabi Ayee Alaa i Rabikuma takaziban'
Is how you will find it written in the holy Qur'an.

Take this rope and do not remain forlorn,
But patiently remove each and every thorn.
Easier if those branches have been shorn,
Where no branch is, there can be no thorn

Mounting Up

Although bowed by the weight of worry, work, and woe,
Sit up, straight and still, trust the Friend the way to show.
A mountain rises up serenely from the plains,
Likewise let your heart rise and above the clouds go.

An Extemporisation on a Poem by Hafiz

The Sufi’s drunken revelry what is it worth?
More than all the treasures of the earth.

More than the prayer mat that much is clear,
More than the Sufi garb of a pretentious Pir.

The kill-joy would prefer a different way,
But as dust of the tavern's doorstep I will stay.

The status symbols of the rulers of this world,
Not worth losing ones head for I demurred.

The ocean of life was profitable I deemed,
Error? In the storm jewels worthless seemed.

Best hide from the longing in those lusting eyes,
An army of griefs would be the price of that prize.

Like Hafiz be content to let the world pass you by,
The miser's gold worth less than the soul's sigh.

A String of Pearls
12 short verses composed on the morning of 6th Sep. 2013

In the court of Hafiz Love is king,
To serve him, better than anything.
Rise above these worldly concerns,
Drink love's wine and love songs sing.

In the tavern the rule is - drink!
And into divine intoxication sink.
Embrace the beauty of a lovely face,
It reflects the bounty of Divine Grace.

O take me far from this world's store,
Carry me to the country of the pure,
There in the tavern set me down,
Into my empty glass, love's wine pour.

Death will come one day for sure,
With, or without, knocking at the door.
He may ask me what my life was for,
'To walk the way of love, like Zahur'.

Embrace this time, embrace this place,
When you meet the loved one face to face.
So much more than a faded photograph,
Burn into the heart this time and place.

Do not offend this muse of mine,
With her I have drunk so much wine,
Ink from the pen flows when she is here,
Blood from a martyr of love in every line.

Oh perfect grey skies, lovely rain,
Of you I will not again complain,
You make it clear it is in the heart,
That summer days sing love's refrain.

Round the Beloved like round Kaaba I go,
The Seeds of love everywhere I throw,
The Beloved great patience shows,
Till I stand still and round me does Kaaba go.

In these poetic fancies, vanity you may see,
You would not say so, if like me,
Love was coursing through your veins,
And the Beloved's pen you seemed to be.

if all this intoxicated verse,
seems to you a bit perverse,
Forgive i pray my drunken words,
O Lord of all the Worlds.

This world is in a drunken spin,
May as well put a pen in,
Then words of love and ecstasy,
Will burn up each and every sin.

Abstain not, for lack of  a rhyme,
It will surely come in time,
just continue to let Love flow,
And everything (else)- let it go.

A Tasbih (Rosary)
12 quatrains composed on the morning of 14th Sep. 2013


Neither of this, nor of that place, try to be,
The true man knows his real nationality;
He belongs to a country both far and near,
Where a broken-heart is proof of identity.

When, after hardship, He sends ease,
Having heard those earnest pleas;
It is the time to pray hard yet again,
And give the prayer of gratitude, to please.


Pain, stabbing at us without any mercy,
Reminders of our human frailty:
O yes! But please remind us too, we pray,
Of Your absolute divine Reality.


Offend not at all the heart of the guide,
He labours very hard for you deep inside;
But for him, the ride through this short life,
At a dreadful destination may have arrived.


To God alone can praise be really applied,
A child with bubble-gum becomes the guide;
That growing bubble bursts into a sticky mess,
Like the one who becomes puffed up with pride.


In the depths of the night you cried,
Prayed again and again for a guide:
No one came to the door today,
But something had changed inside.


To pray for wisdom is wise,
To pray for health likewise:
To pray for abundant love,
However, that gains the prize.


Oh this muse’s amazing constancy!
Ah! Here is a beautiful destiny:
The muse is always here at my side,
So thank God for such intimacy.


I thought maybe it’s because of invocation,
Wine arrived as if by special invitation:
In truth Your generosity wine supplied,
And remembrance came from intoxication.


You asked me to come, so I came, love,
You asked me to stay, so I stayed, love;
You entertained me royally I must say,
My prayer is now always to be in Love.


If verse flows from the pen, like this,
All I can do is to move the pen, like this;
The banks of the lake of Love will burst,
If I don’t open the flood gates, like this.


Carried away in the flood of Love - surprisingly,
On an upturned table riding rather gingerly;
The debris of reason and intellect I see,
Floating past, looking forlorn - unsurprisingly.

The Far Country of the Mind

O when time was not, we sat together I suspect,
Where time is not, we sit together too I expect:

In substance we are one, but in form two we are,
The way the same light is seen in sun, moon or star.

When God eases the limitations of the mind,
And opens new dimensions in a heart refined;

By that lovely one's black curl, away the lover is borne,
As star, moon and sun, certainly, to a black hole are drawn.

Ah you describe it, I see, as the ‘far country’ of the mind,
Strange, when we are so intimately intertwined?

Well let’s accept it as irony so humour in it find,
And travel there hand in hand, better say mind in mind.

No more palaces of pearls in this place will we find,
Even that fine world past imagination, is left behind.

Here everything is more real even than that reality,
As you will see, only if divinely written in your destiny.

Love Arose (in style of Ghazal)

In the eagerness and vigour of youth, love does tease,
But in the mature mind love’s reality does please.

The game of love with its many mysterious layers,
Leaves distraught the poor inexperienced players.

Sit at the feet of one familiar with love's many ways,
And seek how to cultivate love’s rose in that soft gaze.

If your life you dedicate to becoming love’s slave,
It’s a gift that, maybe in eternity, to you God gave.

But  dedicate your life to what some call grey reality,
And you cultivate the bush, but love’s rose never see.

So if your come into the gardener's gentle soul searching gaze,
And a rose blooms in your heart, gratefully to God give praise.

O Jamil to the beautiful light that illuminated your heart,
A monument of gratitude in verse build, and play your part.


Sweet Surrender

Ok I surrender – you win, I give in, I give up,
You have made me a captive of Your wine cup!

I will write all the things that You want to be said,
Every verse that You cause to pop into my head.

A tavern built on rhyming verse I will build,
There now my intention we have sealed!

From its foundation verse by verse may it rise,
With cellars to store wine – there’s no surprise.

A place dedicated to the patrons of the poor,
Khawaja Gharib Nawaz’ name above the door.

Serving Shirazi wine that Hafiz Saheb did inspire,
In Mevlana Rumi's lounge, where lover’s conspire.

But, it must be said, with an English ambience,
For without English my words would just be silence.

The barmaids all holders of the crown of Beauty.
Though with the charms of many a nationality,

The doorman will have instructions to eject,
Those poor souls who love intoxication reject.

The musician's visiting from different climes,
Playing tunes with inspired rhythms and rhymes.

Dancers whirling to the Beloved's beautiful name,
And so many experts at playing Love's game.

The lighting supplied by Nuri Baba, hopefully,
While Sharib Saheb oversees the wine’s quality.

If the light of Mustafa's eyes, brave Ali, does accept,
Maybe Jamil by you the doorway may be daily swept.


The Sufi’s wine was really just a cup of chai,
He really got drunk from the
beloved's sigh.
So you could say I suppose that the chai,
Was really wine since it made the
beloved sigh.


There is a mystery that teases the wondering mind,
How is it when all is from the Beloved so kind
That so much misery and misfortune arrives at our door
That though we should be happy we feel happiness poor.

To unfold the mystery lets put it this way,
Water from the heavens pours sometimes every day
And snow melts and in rivers its water flows to the sea,.
The water is the same and very good it can be.

But the land it reaches causes very different effects,
On hard rocks it splashes rages uneven courses it selects.
On dry sand it may be quickly absorbed and drain away,
In sodden landscapes it my overflow in another way.

Thus it is with the mercy that from God does flow,
Alike in it beneficence but of varying effects just so.
Therefore we should labour to make our human clay good,
So that the effects of mercy bring the benefits it should.

Thus inside our minds and hearts we should try to be,
A landscape hospitable to the downpour, constructively.
Building canals and lakes and the benefits increasing,
To grow good produce to eat and  gardens flowering.

The mercy of God is unfathomably deep and pure,
And daily He lets it to mankind graciously pour,
Oh don’t let it flow uselessly ungrateful on your part,
But with faith and love build channels in your heart


Whether it is written down in words or not,
The poetry of life goes on does it not?

When taken up by the spirit in the air,
Movement becomes a dance affair.

As in words, leaving the prosaic behind,
The love-spirit of poetry in them we find.

Just so does sound become transformed,
If by rhythm, cadence and tune informed.

So when words, sound and movement unite,
There is potential for a holy fire to ignite.

But to reach enlightenments heights,
And illuminate those very special nights.

Each must to its own potential advance,
Becoming poetry, music, and  dance.

Yet required is something much more -
Love’s essence to make each and all pure.

Then the unseen maybe will open its door,
To admit the lover, the wise and the poor.

But to an enlightened friend the door is opening,
Even to the sound of a goldsmith’s hammering.

Heart Hurt

Ah do not let my heart too angry or sad be,
Words were said but bad words unhappily.
The slinking whisperer is clever this way,
He even entered into what the holy Prophet did say.

Maybe the grace of the Almighty will blot out
What the well meaning lover should have left out.
Maybe this rift the One Great God did allow,
A reminder that all things to Him alone must bow.


Deep inside, beneath the conscious mind,
That is where our humanity we will find.

Beneath the layers of lust, envy and greed,
Of laziness, anger and such - there is a seed.

Hard to believe in that terrible seeming soil,
But tended and maintained with much toil,

It can spread roots to find a river underneath,
So growing strong and healthy, root and leaf.

Love is the source of that flowing stream I believe,
And its water’s sounds pronounce peace I  perceive.

The plant it feeds, many-coloured blooms display,
So that amongst it flowers, heaven’s children play.

Now see the deep wisdom of that Supreme Mind,
In creating that soil which may at first appear unkind.

The clay that fills angels with so much dismay,
Is required so we can our humanity display.

So work and pray for leaf and flower to flourish,
That love and peace, root and fruit will nourish.

And that our souls may eventually display,
Sweet-scented blooms to the Creator of our clay.


The ego gets a poor press amongst spiritual folk,
I am not surprised it gets upset and can’t see the joke;
Everyone seems intent on destroying it somehow,
(Though few seem to be able to say exactly how).

The truth is it‘s not the ego at fault you see,
It is enclosed in corruption by things like vanity.
The kernel of the ego is indestructible too,
For the ego is
you,  but of course also not you.

In its pristine state it’s just like a TV/radio receiver,
Tune it to the gutter and only bad news you’ll gather,
Tune it to the higher heavens and it will clearly convey,
Talk of souls or saints or even what the Prophets say.

So instead of kicking this receiver around the room,
Tune it to your heart and hear/see the flowers bloom.
Or tune it to Universal Reason and hear the reason why,
The pure ego is the key to messages from heaven on high.

But don’t get me wrong, around the ego is a hard shell,
Despicable qualities led by the self, ready to give you hell.
Smash the shell, by all means do – but scholars I implore,
Please don’t translate
nafs al amarah as the ego anymore.

Love Notes

When love-poetry ruled and Hafiz was crowned king,
Pearls of love’s wisdom he showered over everything.

Nowadays, when this mean old world is ruled by greed,
To repair to Hafiz’ glorious court has become our need.

Sublime the thoughts that from Hafiz Saheb proceed,
On these fine thoughts many hungry hearts can feed.

Now that even strangers to Parsi his thought can read,
For the outpouring of that love man must see the need.

Many times I found my way to the place of that friend,
To stay with that one forever, I pray and certainly intend,

To this pen such a flow of inspiration that one does lend,
Loving embraces and honeyed kisses come, without end.

Oh read into all this whatever you will,
For these things my pen will not stay still,

The good doctors may think I need a pill,
But it is only from love fever that I am ill.

Last night I couldn’t see what today would bring,
Now I know it brought me joy in everything;

For the love that my pen burns into the page,
Lets me know love’s age is each and every age.

Eventually the cup is emptied - have I drunk too much?
The world I see is spinning round - is that too much?

Well I always understood that’s what this planet does,
So I guess it’s the planet that’s drunk - so what’s the fuss?

My pen I see is slowing but it will not yet stop,
From line to line it flies till it’s emptied the shop:

Beloved I have not passed you over, I try to please,
Be patient please and this poor lover do not tease,

Until I reach the deepest thought of thee,
The remembrance of our shared intimacy;

No matter the barriers in the mind I may see,
I will go on till we are one - not ‘you and me‘.

Anger and pain and a hurting heart,
Do what they can to keep us apart,

But the balm of that love’s sweeter side,
Becomes for us a sure and certain guide.

Love let's hear from you, tell me what to do,
The rightful ruler of hearts is
you, only you;

The mean pretenders try to usurp your place,
you will be restored by God’s good grace.

Love, you will be enthroned with crown and mace,
A smile of beatitude spreading over your face;

O love rule over this sad wayward heart of mine,
Then drunk with your wine, Hafiz' name I’ll sign,

Smashing Shells

Smash the shell of fundamentalism, find religion;
Smash the shell of so-called Sufism, find devotion;
Smash the shell of a love that by lust is driven,
And find the Love that by God alone is given.


In powerlessness we say implicitly,
O God all power belongs to Thee,

What more powerful prayer can there be,
Than 'O God all power belongs to Thee'.

Thus it is too with spiritual poverty,
It says 'O God all wealth comes from Thee',

How is it possible richer to be,
Than one whose wealth resides in Thee.

In the spirit's intoxication we can see,
The sobriety of dependence on Thee.

In loving the Prophets can they not see,
We are loving the ones loved by Thee.

The submission of the heart intentionally,
Says' O Lord this heart belongs only to Thee'.

In patience too consider, then you’ll agree,
The outcome of everything depends on He.

And Love, what can we say of that mystery?
In Love there  is no more 'Thee and me',

In Love of God is the overflowing of divinity,
Into human love - the essence of our humanity.