The Sufi.


The old Sufi sang,

“Ishq Allah mahbud Allah,”

to the sound of the drone

and a plucked sitar.

They knew not why

or what he sang,

as he span about 

under the stars,

Nor what the lyrics meant,

as he sang, “Ishq Allah.”

As starlight danced about him,

the moon began to sway,

feeling the gentle rythmn

until night became the day.

The Sufi seemed so serene

twirling to the tune,

And no thing disturbed him,

being totally consumed. 

When the music stopped

they thought he had gone away,

but the Sufi was still there,

on the path from which 

he never strayed. 

When they looked

they could not see him,

but he saw them as clear as day,

and even the passers by 

asked each other why he went away. 

From the perspective of the world,

it appeared that he had gone,

yet the Sufi was among them

still singing the hallowed song.

From the perspective of the Sufi

his consciousness never moved away,

but in the consciousness of the people

he had no mind wherein to stay.

A young child heard a song,

“Ishq Allah mahbud Allah,”

to the sound of the drone

and a plucked sitar.

She knew not why

or what was sung,

as it was heard 

in the wind and trees,

But what the lyrics meant,

echoed through

the leaves on the streets.
Sougen.

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