You ask me to speak about secrets
Secrets!
Don’t you know yet?
Secrets could be beamed,
Not in poesy, not in alphabets
But in the nakedness of presence
By the dialogues uttered with sewn lips.
You ask me to speak about books
Books!
Let me tell you
His being lies beyond the scripts,
Beyond the bounds of imagination
The transmission doesn’t occur
Through the paper but through presence.
You ask me to speak about his presence
His Presence!
Don’t you know yet,
What happened to Moses on Sinai?
Find a way to retreat
Drown in the ocean of your own being
That’s where deepest transmissions occur.
You ask me to speak about his languages
His Languages!
Listen, it’s a dried ink on lacerated pages,
What lusters in presence,
gets diluted and distorted when spoken.
The sole language of his existence
Is the language of silence, all else is poor translation.
You ask me to speak about divine wisdom
Divine wisdom!
You can’t enter the realms of wisdom without trial
You can’t attain gnosis without the fragrance of his spirit
You can’t have love without longing and entrancement
Wear the cloak woven of six directions
Gates will open and be the attar of his wisdom.
You ask me to speak about preserved tablet
Preserved Tablet!
Have you seen a brimmed goblet
Pouring seeds of love in the bucket of heart?
If seeds are crummy, you can’t blame the goblet
If you can’t alter the indited tales,
Be the pen and nib and ink of that paper.
You ask me to speak about this mystery
Mystery!
There is a thin line in between
Nafs: the lust, the greed and the surrender
Either flows from heart and soul or carnal wishes
Manifestation dances with mystery
When one dies before death.
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