Tag Archives: Death

Bees Don’t Make His Honey (10/15/17)

Bees Don’t Make His Honey (10/15/17)

Before wine, the vineyard or the grape ever existed in this world,

our soul was drunk with everlasting wine, with God’s wine.

 

Before this hide and seek,

before Mansur* said that secret word, made that subtle point,

we kept saying, “I am God,” in the Baghdad of this world. Continue reading

The Situation Is Not Like That (8/20/17)

The Situation Is Not Like That (8/20/17)

Between the darkness of sleep and the light of awakening,

in the dark of evening, I saw such a person!

 

He was a traveler with such a beautiful face, on his journey to the Holy Temple.

He was pure wisdom, the light of awareness. Continue reading

The Light of the Soul’s Mirror (2/19/17)

The Light of Soul’s Mirror (2/18/17)

Look. Look at Me carefully.

Know that I am a friend to you in your grave.

When you are away from the house or store,

I am the one who hangs around with you.

 

 

You hear My greeting in the grave,

although you have never been away from My eyes.

 

All those times you are happy and cheerful,

the times you are sad and in trouble,

I am inside of you, just like your mind and soul.

 

When you hear a familiar sound at night in a strange land,

know that you are secure from snake bites and troubles from ants.

 

The drunkenness of Love offers you wine in your grave,

lights a candle, offers appetizers, and burns incense for you.

 

When you light the candle of the mind,

what yells and screams in the cemetery come from death!

 

The soil of the cemetery becomes confused from these noises, this humdrum,

the beat of the drums of resurrection.

 

You tear your coffin; you plug your ears with fear.

What’s the use of brains or ears when they face the trumpet of resurrection?

 

Wherever you look, you see Me.

Whether you look at yourself or the crowd,

all you see is Me. Me.

 

Don’t be cross-eyed. Open both your eyes.

Look at Me nicely, because on that day,

poor eyesight will make My bright beauty look like it’s far, far away.

 

I appear human, but don’t ever make that mistake,

because the soul is very light, and Love is very tough, very jealous.

 

Never mind shape or form.

Even if I dress in felt, the cloak is still the light of the soul’s mirror;

it shines, becomes a flag, becomes apparent.

 

Beat the drum. Go to the musicians of the town.

The day of manifestation is for the voyager who is maturing on the path of Love.

 

If you hadn’t been after money and goods, if you had kept searching for God,

you wouldn’t see yourself in the coffin sitting next to a ditch.

 

You’ve set up such a house of informers in our town

that you’d better close your mouth now and be a silent informer, just like light.

Divan-i Kebir, Meter 7a, Gazel 125, Verses 1490-1504, Pages 30-341