The staff is a snake
The messenger flees
“Musa, don’t fear”
Returns it with ease
What is, is not
What is not, is
Micropoetry
Foot Soldier
An army of lies
Behind Jalūt,
Submitting foot soldier
And a pebble of truth.
What is, is not.
What is not, is.
Zāhid
You could reject the pleasures you’re allowed
Or be the slave embracing every gift
For sacrifice is clearly about
The quality of everything you give
The love Khaleelullah had for his son
Is why his love was honored by The One
Floating
The leaf in the wind
The wind in the storm
The storm in submission
Submission in the leaf
Rahm
Let all your pain
Be left behind
Allah make this
Descent refined
Your resting place
May be a tomb
But know: you’re in
This planet’s womb
To be delivered
On a day
When time and space
Forget to play
That day I pray
You find your way
To where Sayyidina awaits
Once Upon A Hope
Somewhere between
The skies and earth;
Between the pools
Of grief and mirth;
Between where roses
Wilt and die
And grasses long dead
Come alive;
Between the wrath
Of tyrant’s scorn
And mother’s smile
For newly born:
There, hope
And all its children thrive.
Sweet Takbīr
Sweet Takbīr
Kind Punctuator
Reminding worshipper
Distracted by thoughts:
The Worshipped is Greater
Majnūn
Nothing unlocks
The doors of understanding
Like the persistent knocks
Of sincere repetition
Some call it madness
Ignore their reprimanding
Even madness has elements
Of form and tradition
Word and Wind
Look at trees
In the breeze
Quietly to wonder at
A simple word
That when uttered
Becomes a seed that blows
Upon a wind
That knows no sin
To where the treasure goes
A garden greener
Than the scenery
Right at the start
Before the word
Had softly stirred
Inside remembering heart
Silly Wisdom
Doesn’t pay to be an idiot
Doesn’t pay to be a fool
Doesn’t pay to be a moron
Just the opposite of cool
How I hope this silly wisdom
Is expressly understood
That it’s foolish to be foolish
If the payment isn’t good