I think the greatest lie is when
You say you haven’t time
You say it even as you pen
A silly little rhyme
Beloved
It is not love to love a thing
That dies for such a death may bring
Decrease in what you thought was love
When comes to pass the painful sting
Of time. But love is what may grow
As separation floods the soul
With tears bear the vessel of
Your longing for the love you know
But how can separation be
When eyes have never been to see
What we believe is our beloved?
It follows then that we and he
Have met before the birth of time
Before the birth of pain and rhyme
For we know what we feel inside
Is from a separation’s tide
Tawheed
Know when you offer
Your service and love
That all you intended
And all that you do
Begins in a place
Beyond time and space
From One who is watching
In all of His Grace
To see if you attribute
All that you do
To where it begins
Or the idol that’s you.
Not in Control
October flurries reminding us
we’re not in control
of anything
at all
.
Fall
Words of tots like leaves of trees
Full of color when they fall
Listen, Again
If you think the obvious
May have been stated
Look into why it
Was articulated
But if you detest
To be in the quest
You may have embarked
On a journey ill-fated
Covenant
Consider now that covenant primordial
From every soul endowed prophetic sight;
They witnessed it as one submission cordial
To flush a heart, and fill a cave, with Light.
Waves
Waves
A sign
That everything goes
With the highs
And the lows
Till it dies
On the shores
Of time
Graves
Eloquence
If time were in your hands, you’d have the power
To alter destinies, and if you sought,
You’d travel a millennium or hour,
Accelerating at the speed of thought.
Consider now the placing of the sun
In one hand, while the other takes the moon;
It’s one way lordship over time is spun:
Balāghah serving waḥy on a spoon.
On Night Time Silence
The silence of the night is loudest when
The sounds of sleep and timber creak are one;
To rise as rebels, wont to fall again
As if their song of rise and fall were done,
For silence is a failure of the mind
To hear what it refuses to let in:
A creature that by nature is defined
In terms of what is absent though met in
The captivating charms of solitude
That free the soul unto the forest lush
With sapling thoughts that spring from soil imbued
With nourishment endowed in waters’ gush.
The silence of the night is soft and mild
When chanced upon the breath of sleeping child.