The Wings of My Soul
I would spread the wings of my soul
But even the vast expanse of this universe
Will not be able to contain them,
I would wear the crown of my soul
But the light would blind the rest of creation
And leave them stumbling in a formless world,
I would walk around with the slippers of my soul
But I am not used to walking on air,
Accustomed as I am to the earth
Of my being.
I would unmask my soul
But the mirror of this world
Is held up by my own hands,
And the contradiction of my existence
And my non-existence
Would annihilate my world,
And I would come to be to myself
An unknown, anonymous thing,
To be drawn and written and composed
As God deems fit, as the Prophet instructs.
And even this is not the complete truth!
AVATAR. I don't have time for spiritual poetry. For I find this physical world manifest already with the poetic symmetry of creation that can come from God alone. If you do not believe me, look at man's own attempt at creature design... from 'scientific' television documentaries which depict animals and plants dug up from the imagination and tenuous rationalization of scientists (who really ought to know better than go for this 'pop' pseudo-scientific fiction) to mega gazillion movies like Avatar and Prometheus. Not one or two, but all the man-designed creatures somehow appear to be contrived and fictional, lacking the symmetry and asymmetrical cohesiveness of this real world and real creation, registered and copyrighted by our one God.
|Oh my God... you are ugly. I would now normally say,|
"Prepare to meet your Maker..." but I know for certain God didn't make you.
|And almost all fictional creatures end up with|
this one singular fault - over design.
RUMI. Err... I appear to have deviated somewhat from today's topic. So back to poetry and poets. I have assiduously avoided reading poetry, because I don't really enjoy language for language's sake. And even that most celebrated poets such as Rumi and Hafez I evade from reading. But sometimes life moves in its twists and turn and you cannot avoid bumping into these spiritual luminaries. As in a little book Heche acquired for me entitled Rumi - The Fire of Love. This book turns out to be a biography of sorts covering Jelaludin Rumi and his muse, Shams of Tabriz. The book is the creation of Nahal Tajadod, a Teheran born scholar and sufi now residing in France. What makes this book very accessible is that it is written from the point of view of a Rumi mureed (student), but composed in a modern novel language. Nicely done.
I am still reading the book, and slowly devouring the stories and history of Rumi, his family, companions and mureeds, all living in that age under the shadow of the rapacious Mongol hordes from the east. Of the many books I have acquired or been given over this past one year, I think this will be one of my favourites! I will share with you my conclusions upon finishing the book later.
But before I leave you (and leave I must), I recall a prose I recorded many years back. It is kinda funny...
1. Rumi Freak
A friend once said that
I am a Rumi freak.
But the truth is
I don’t read Rumi.
I am holding his beard
And he has his hands
On my head.
Have a thoughtful day, sunshine.
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way