Showing posts with label sufi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sufi. Show all posts

Friday, November 9, 2012

Real



You are real.
You are the one.
Today I speak to you –
And I give myself.
Let this build –
Within, whatever I am.

A slow a kill it is.
A slow pill it is.
Your music moves –
Moves my bones
Till they melt to water
And rains down
I will quench myself.

The symphony renders psychedelic,
The tenor sounds clear and sound.
Your magnificence screams through.
It is but an adoration of my love.
It is a confession of my hidden fears.

What do you know of my unrest?
The unrest that shatters through –
This moment of my unpleasant dream
You stand there laughing.
Laughing at my ignorance –
And I repent my inability.

Your rotting bread,
Your blessed grass,
Your roughened sword,
Your perennial scar –
Etched on my very being,
And I fall in despair –
The unknowing –
The unforgiving,
The forsaken –
The dying…

I twist and turn.
I quell and I burn.
I seek peace.
I miss –
The very reason you sent me unto.
Your sun burns me.
Your rains does console at times.
The freeze embitters me –
Till it mellows in watering frost
And yet I complain.

I complain of variety.
I shred my sobriety.
I lay down motionless –
Inert in my senses,
Till you send the thunder of passion –
It rains down on my inglorious being.

I am but just a ‘faqir’ 
I am but an absolved soul.
Off your generous abode
Cursed to haunt this very land you promised,
And yet I lay at ease.

I have got nothing to ask for.
I have nothing to cry upon.
I have no remittance.
I have no home.
In this wide world you left –
I roam wherever I belong.
And whenever I feel bereft,
Whenever I feel undone,
I hold on to my straining nerves.
And I say –
I am your puppet
You are my puppeteer.

*****

Thursday, April 24, 2008

O Bulla! I know not who I am...


O Bulla! I know not who I am

Bulla, I know not who I am
Bulla, I know not who I am
Neither am I believer in mosque
Nor am I in idol worship.
Neither in the pure or the impure
Nor am I in the Vedas.
Neither am I into intoxicants,
Nor am I the carefree deviant.
Neither am I union nor grief.
Neither am I the pure nor impure.
Neither am I of the water nor of the land.
Neither am I fire nor air.
Bulla, I know not who I am.
Neither am I Arabic nor from Lahore.
Neither am I from the Indian city of Nagaur.
Neither am I Hindu nor a Peshawari Turk.
Neither did I create the difference of faith,
Nor did I create Adam and Eve.
Neither did I name myself,
Beginning or end –
I know just the self.
I do not recognize ‘the other one’.
There’s none wiser than ‘me’.
Who is this Bulla Shah?
O Bulla! I know not who I am.
*****
Bulleh Shah