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The Great Test

I dream
I want to spin until the world melts.
All colors fusing to One
I want the world to spinWhirlingDervish-2
with such force like a hurricane
so that all things are no more.
All evil to dissolve
And the good with it.
No need for scales, since there is nothing to weigh.

I yearn for the All of Nothing. I yearn for the days in His Presence.
A babe in the arms of its mother.

This need within my heart, this gripping need
I know from where it comes.

And when this remembrance ends, when the veil is pulled back over my dream,
I awaken again
to the world of rules, to the world of hurt, to the reality of ‘THINGS’,
To the hunters and the preyed upon,
To the myriad, deafening chorus of separation and discernment.

I want to sleep, and to melt so that there is no ‘ME’

SubhanAllah, This test is Severe indeed. The stakes are All or Nothing.

Wake the Dreamer

Images arise from within.
Images of tomorrow, images of yesteryear.
Images of what could have been,
Images of what we wish to be.
Images of who we hold ourselves to be.

We drink these images.
We drink this poison, Dreaming
in a sea of emotion, a sea of
good feeling and nostalgia
Dreams that make us forget
(Make us heedless to the Real)
Dreams that
make promises of a better tomorrow,
remind of a golden yesterday
tomorrow (yesterday),
tomorrow (yesterday)
Ever tomorrow, Ever yesterday

There is a poison in it.
A poison that drives us to DREAM
Oh such beautiful and RIGHTEOUS dreams…
Like the Lotus eaters,
Once this potion is drunk
it keeps us dreaming
The poison clouds us,
Keeps us from waking,
Keeps us forever running toward the mirage, the desire.

Expecting reality to manifest his dream,
the dreamer grows bitter
“Why does not my dream
Become reality?”

Dreams are beautiful
(When made real
They transform the world)
But dreaming for dreaming’s sake
misleads the dreamer

It is not the dream itself
That is the poison.
But the poison is mixed in
With due measure, by the instigator
A weaver of the dream.

Oh dreamer! Look within!
Find the weaver and stay his hand!
Oh dreamer! Seek yourself and try scolding the viper,
See how it responds!

Have you heard the story of Buddha?
Buddha turned his back on the Dunya
The Dunya: Nothing but a dream
tricks us into thinking
it is reality

Buddha despised it,
saw it for what it was
Saw its poison, saw Mara (Iblis) himself,
Buddha stopped the dream.

In doing so, he angered the viper.
Iblis personified, came after Buddha.
Iblis refused to be ignored
Iblis wanted Buddha to bow to him, fear him
“Take my poison!”

Iblis screamed louder in silence.
Iblis, the master trapper
Caught in his own trap
For by waking up, the Buddha destroyed Iblis’s dream
Destroyed Iblis.

Oh you Muslim it is your turn!
Be like the Buddha and wake up!
Be like the Buddha and wake up!
Be like the Buddha and wake up!

Make your sheytan scream.


The Final Exam

Note: Religious and spiritual contemplation is without a doubt highly beneficial to the spiritual states of believers, as evidenced by numerous hadith and Qur’anic ayats. Authorities rank the various types of contemplation and knowledge (‘ilm) according to their levels of spiritual benefit.

The following poem revolves around contemplation on the Day of Judgement. Regarding this type of contemplation there is a debatable hadith which can be found from amongst the Shia tradition and also apparently the Barelvis ( a Sunni group). The hadith incorporates an ayat from the Qur’an and mirrors a more sound hadith (quoted by Imam Ibn Hanbal, RA). Its meaning (matn), in my opinion, is beneficial. Regardless of its actual authenticity, it is a hadith whose meaning I find my heart ambraces.

It states as follows:

The Noble Prophet (sa) asked Abu Hurairah: “How do you contemplate?”

“As stated by Allah in the Qur’an: ‘(Men of understanding) reflect on the creation of the heavens and the earth.’[40]. I too reflect upon the wonders of the heavens and the earth,” he replied.

The Noble Prophet (sa) remarked, “One hour of your contemplation is better than one year of worship.” Then turning to Ibn Abbas, he asked, “How do you contemplate?”

“I reflect upon death and the horrors of the Day of Judgment,” replied Ibn Abbas.

The Noble Prophet (sa) said, “One hour of your contemplation is better than seven years of worship.” Then, he asked the other companion, “In what manner do you contemplate?”

The companion answered, “I reflect upon the fire of Hell and its dreadfulness and severity.”

“One hour of your contemplation is better than seventy years of worship,” the Noble Prophet (sa) stated.


Without further ado, the poem:

Final Exam

All men are rushing
Forward toward that day
When there is no shade
No shade, but the Shade of Allah
Reserved for the pious ones

That day men will hasten
Some raving mad
at the stain in their skin, unwashed
Some serenely, pure,
with eyes only on their Lord
Some blindly-driven, hordes chasing
After their own desires

And in these poor, dead souls,
What should have matured into a niched-lamp
Reflecting a Light, a Mercy, from neither the East nor the West,
Has instead become a driving slave master,
A Demanding Fire
In their breast,
Riding its donkey after all things created

Beware this world, oh son!

Watch over your heart
Root out its weeds

Be not like those who,
On the Final Day have as friends
nothing but the ugly twins of:
Anguish and Self-Loathing

That day those who are the losers
Will feel the sweat of their crawling skins
Layered up to their necks.


Ya Allah remove not Your Guidance,
Ya Allah forever shower Your Mercy on us,
Ya Allah guide us to Your sincere friends,
SubhanAllahi, wal Hamdulillahi, wa la illaha ilAllahu, Allahu Akbar wa la hawla wa la quwwata illa billa hil ‘alii-al ‘adheem
(Glory be to God and all Praise is for God, and there is no god but God, and God is the Greatest and there is no Might or Power except with God)
Amin Oh Lord of the Worlds, Amin


The Lovers and the Meeting

In death he falls clinging
to ephemeral lovers beckoning,
Smiling and promising
with whispered lies

Perhaps. Perhaps.

He closes his eyes,
at the onrush of the Great Wall…

And in the Beyond,
The Intense Questioning begins.
A Great Reckoning.

“How was spent the time?
How was spent the wealth?
How was exerted the body?
How was gained the food, the clothes?”
The pen hovering, ready to sign.

In the Great Panic, he responds:
‘But this is not what was whispered,
to me in feverish dream, on death’s bed,
My lovers, my lovers will testify!’

Bring them,
The Lovers,
The selfish, sweet-tongued liars,
Always tickling the ears and the hearts
with their sweet venom,
Bring them ye to testify

In a swift rush of wings,
they are brought forth in chains,
Blind, their eye sockets empty,
Bodies bent and wasted away,
Lips cracked and teeth diseased
from all their spoken filth

He recoils in disgust. In fear. In hatred.
‘These are not they, the lovers pure
who whispered such sweet promises
in times of trouble and need’

But Truth manifests. And Silence holds sway.
The air grows heavy.
The sky itself darkens from fear.
The Presence.
The heart sinks, shattered,
hearing the dread response:

See ye your lovers in truth,
with bridal veil uplifted,
the inward reality,
of your own darkly reflected lusts
and opinion from whim.
Yours for eternity.’

‘But their testimony! Their testimony!’
Cried in anguish, he pleads with The Witness,
To the old hags:
‘Speak! Speak! My Lovers if in truth you be!’

Laughing, crying, shrieking,
the lovers meld and join as one
Laughing, crying, shrieking, proclaiming, whispering:
“Indeed, The One had promised you the truth.
And I also promised you,
but I betrayed you.
And I had no authority over you except that I invited you,
and you responded to me.”(1)
Laughing, crying, shrieking,
The lover prepares for her wedding.


(1):  Qur’an 14:21 – 14:22

Angelic Lessons

Whenever through intimacy my heart inclines,

Toward its angel seeking

Inspiration, He responds, speaking

Directly into my heart, pouring

A river, a flood bursting

My inward locks, breaking

All constriction. My heart growing and flourishing

There is no end to the expansion.

To flee this world, one must soar on angelic wings.


There is no barrier between he and I.

We speak freely like lovers.

Though in this stillness, I find myself the student. More content to listen.

For I am in the grip of love

of these words’ source,

Words entrusted for the heart’s delivery



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