To hear what Allah to Hazrat Ali, did tell,
You must become an empty well,
Like the one into which Prophet Yusuf fell;
You must also learn never to tell.
You may think that short, witty, ditties
Like these, are only intended to please,
Well they are; but blow the froth away,
And taste the coffee beneath one day:
You may find they have something to say,
Though they say it in a humorous way,
From out of the briny ocean's swell,
Beauty emerged! How? None can tell.
Perfect in essence and in detail see,
Her simple, pearl like, luminosity.
No matter with how many words, or
How cutely contrived the metaphor
That I try to cover her with; to me,
Pristine and pure she will always be.
Whether disguised as a natural scene
In music's strains heard, or artifacts seen,
Or in a quiet afternoon in the park;
Or in a human form (fair or dark);
She still seems like a pearl to me,
In an opened shell, waiting to be
Seen as she really is; and to reveal
She is the Truth that forms conceal.
If sometime you come across a tree,
(And there is no one around to see),
Please, give it a big hug from me,
Even if it has to be done, secretly.
The Demands of Poetry
A few more rhymes came my way, today,
They are not happy till the light of day
They can clearly see - i.e.
Till they are written down by me.
Where they come from is hard to say
From somewhere both near and far away.
Or to put it a little differently
Neither far, nor near, apparently.
Like a prayer they just appear in me,
A reflection of Your infinite Capacity.
So I duly write down what in my mind
Appears, and hope the reception is kind.
I said to my wife, 'God, where is He?'
She said where He is supposed to be!
The implication is quite clear to me,
Not just sitting and writing poetry.
Bibi Raabia’s Way
This implication I find indeed,
In what I hear, see, and read,
About Him for Whose Mercy we sigh.
This is what He seems to imply:
‘Take refuge in Me from Me,
From My Wrath to My Mercy ever flee.
In each you will find only Me;
So ask yourself which you would rather be;
In the paradise of My Gracious smile,
Or in My frown tossing in a different style.
Which you decide makes no difference to Me,
But to you the difference amazing will be.’
All this being so, and those who know,
Will surely say so; this thought in me did grow;
Fruit from the seeds His True Lover’s did sow;
Like Bibi Raabia, the ones who really do know;
That from our ‘self’ we should try to be free.
Since from Him we cannot in any way flee!
The Beloved alone our objective should be;
And if from our ‘self’ His Love makes us free,
We may dwell in Him; and in Him may see,
That His Wrath and His Mercy were really,
Reflections of our own self-hood’s unreality,
For He is not other than Pure Love you see.
This caveat it seems to me I must make,
In case this all leads you to a mistake,
If no guide you have to His Love’s Way,
In His Mercy try always and ever to stay.
More Verses Wanting to be Heard
Miscellaneous verses by
Jamiluddin Morris Zahuri
Seeking Something More
A sincere seeker on the path of the pure,
Was seen nervously nearing paradise’ door.
Those nearby said, ‘Sir, pray do not worried be,
Light at the end of the tunnel is a certainty'.
He replied, ‘I do not at all doubt this!’
They said, ‘Tell then what the cause is.’
One thought it might be that he trembled from fear,
That at the door he might hear ‘You can’t enter here’.
Another ventured the idea that his trembling might be,
In anticipation of delights waiting for one such as he.
He replied, ‘My nervousness is not caused by any of this,
Neither fear of rejection nor anticipation of bliss.
I am wondering what those inside will say,
When I tell them, in paradise I will not stay;
When I tell them simply what is true,
That I am really just passing through.
It is intimacy with Him Who set this all up,
That is the wine my soul seeks for its cup.’
Grey clouds, grey streets, daily we see;
Grey people, grey days, endlessly.
But that cold grey feeling soon departs,
When we meet bright minds and warm hearts.
A little bit here and a little bit there,
Making concessions in order to share,
Is required from both husband and wife;
If they want to live happily in this life.
Deep in the desert three men, in days of old,
(At least that is how the story is usually told),
Found themselves in dreadful predicament,
Gone was the water for the journey meant.
Stumbling around, held in thirst’s firm grip,
Desperately seeking something to sip.
A mirage appeared in the sight of the three,
A hundred metres ahead it appeared to be.
A fresh water oasis with ease all could see;
The first of the three shouted in ecstasy,
And ran forward with every kind of haste,
Not deterred when with each step placed,
The mirage the same distance seemed to be.
The second man shouted, ‘Brother can’t you see,
This is a mirage and of thee it is making a fool’.
So he picked up the nearest available tool,
Which happened to be a sword, flashing bright,
To his brother’s help he charged - a fearful sight.
He slashed to the left and slashed to the right,
The mirage retreated as he thought it might.
Sad to say he kept cutting his brother accidentally,
‘That is but a small price to pay’ thought he.
So off the two men ran to embrace their destiny;
One to grasp and one to destroy, an unreality.
The third man in some distress all this did see,
‘Those two fools,’ he said, ‘a mirage will not gull me.
To destroy or embrace a fantasy is just stupid.’
Now I expect you are wondering what he did.
His mind was of a fatalistic bent, he had been taught,
‘If it is God’s Will there is nothing to do,’ so he thought,
I will ignore this illusory image and then it will go away.
Now you might think he would at least to God pray,
Or some other effort would make to change his plight:
But he just sat and sat lacking a guiding light.
Years later three skeletons were found in the sand,
Destiny had surely destroyed this hapless band;
Sad to say, a very short distance away was concealed,
By a single sand dune, a Well where real water flowed.
Now in case you think you are not of these three,
Examine this story more closely and see.
The mirage some call the ‘American dream’,
Though it is actually a universal scam.
If chasing it, then you are like the first man,
For to catch happiness this way, no one can.
If you think that with bomb or bullet to destroy,
An illusion, is in some way a sensible ploy,
Then you are acting like the second man,
Find a better use of your energy if you can.
If to fatalism and a shoulder shrug, you incline,
Your thinking you really need to refine.
Take a few steps, and to help yourself, strive,
Then for sure the help of God will arrive.
Some say there was a fourth with the three,
Who, the well found, if so a seeker was he.
For such the help of God is always at hand,
O reader, may you be the fourth of the band.
You keep urging me to write more poetry,
Sometimes I think, you think, I am a tree,
From which new foliage sprouts continually,
Well, if that is what God intends, thus it will be.
If so, sit in the shade of my branches today,
Then catch any verses that fall your way;
And if you want, like the bulbul does to the rose,
You can give me news of how everything goes.
For a tree stays put and doesn’t roam about,
Just stands there and tries to work everything out;
But if on leaving you give a warm hug to me,
I won’t be embarrassed, ‘cos I am only a tree.
The way to be free from idolatry,
Is to live life as it is meant to be;
Receiving as a grace from heaven above,
Each day, another life, made new by love;
Not for this or for that particular thing,
But for the Unity implicit in everything.
Yesterday’s things in yesterday keep;
Today’s meditation should be so deep,
As to dispel everything that went before.
We know this of the One God, for sure,
Though His Unity is continuity supreme,
His manifestation daily new does seem.
A thought derived from the sage of Sanjar,*
May his thoughts from Zahuri never be far.
*Khawaja Muinuddin Hasan Chishti (ra)
On such a sound and solid slab of silence, stay;
From this promontory His articulacy, survey;
Thus He paves the way to penetrate the fantasy,
That obscures the potent pen of His Reality.
Be sweet natured and enjoy the sweet love,
Of people you meet, and of heaven above,
The soft-hearted ones receive every day,
Thousands of blessings and give them all away!
Because the know that the more they give,
The better they learn just how to truly live.