Poetry Wrote Over Several Years on Spiritual, Religious, and Devotional Subjects. |
Devotional Poetry My Search I Into the mystic realm, I let my mind take flight, Over stone strewn highways, I search the endless night. I was the Wanderer, Looking for a goal, And the Seeker, Searching for my soul. I walked the roads of idle fancy, Paths of material delight, Stumbling over stones of vain imaginings, In my search for the light. A voice deep within me cried: "Here doesn't lay your goal, Upon these darkened pathways, You'll never find your sou." II Into the mystic realm, Again my mind took flight, Over well traveled highways, I search the misty twilight. I was a Seeer, Seeking an unknown goal, And a Stranger, To my own soul. In this realm of half-light, I strolled the roads of tradition, Picking my way carefully, Through the shadows of superstition. Still from within came the cry: "Not in this realm is your goal, Upon these half-lit pathways, You'll never find your soul" III Into the mystic realm, Again I took flight, And walked the paths, Where God has shed His light. I walked the hallowed highways, Trod by the Prophets of old, Strolled the ancient paths, Strewn with nuggets of pure gold. This is the wondrous realm, Where all paths become one, This is the glorious land, Illuminated by God's sun. Through the Word of God, I have found my soul, In the Messenger for this age, I have found my goal. Poet's Note: ▼ |
Thoughts Of The Unborn January 9, 2019 at 10:45pm Thoughts Of The Unborn
What thoughts
run through the soul
before the brain is formed;
before the connections are wired;
befoe the concepts
of either life or death
glint in embryonic eyes?
What dream
embrace the soul
suspended in utero,
as cell by cell
its body
becomes a physical reali8ty?
What sound
does the soul emit when someone else's choice
severs its connection
with matter?
{dropnote:"Poet's Note:"}I finished this on 9 Mulk 154 B.E. I believe that... [Read more] 'Ala', The Month of Fasting January 9, 2019 at 8:52pm ‘Alá’,
The Month of Fasting
The First Day of Fast
The slow hours march
In mute procession:
Each second becomes a minute,
Each minute an hour,
Each hour a day,
Each day a year.
The Second Day of Fast
The preparation has begun!
The eart of the soul
Is plowed
By desire of the flesh.
The body wants
That which is death to the soul.
The horseman,
must control the horse
Else both die in the fall.
The Third Day of Fast
Prayer awakens
The longing to ob... [Read more] |