These Hilltop Reflections

April 5, 2007 in Poems of Love, Poems of Travel, The Poet's Eyes, The Poet's Tongue...

Peace, one and all…

These poems are my latest reflections on this crazy thing called life.  They were written during the last few days, mostly on trains and buses.  There’s something very profound about travelling.  I suppose it’s about an enforced restfulness, a time when there’s nothing else to do except look out of the window.

At any rate, enjoy and may the Beloved accept these faulty works as my own gifts of Love.

Such Fleeting Moments

When company is scarce,
I speak to my Self
and to the pen
held in my hand.

The golden sunlight caresses the ancient hills,
and these red brick buidlings
of fading Victorian grandeur
turn to mellow fire
in the evening glow.

Amid such moments,
such fleeting moments,
I, Self and Pen
flow together as one,

and, as one,
we three fall into silence.

Haunted Voices

Opening yourself
brings a myriad of secret voices
to the heart’s hidden ear,
like gentle gasps of air
through the trees.

Beloved, this land is haunted!

Or, perhaps, these spirits speak only to me
and haunt only my steps:
but I would be foolish indeed to believe so.

I stand in this stone courtyard,
communing with the spirit of the wind,
and the voices carried upon its breath.

Like blessed Majnun,
I whisper secrets into the Night’s dark bosom:

‘Speak to me of my Love’, I say,
‘and ease this sweet pain of longing’.

And here, at day’s end,
I begin to see:

all voices are but echoes
and these spirits are but reflections
of One Mighty and Loving.

Purpose

The point, my friend, is not whether God exists,
for this is a truth more certain
that the world and all it contains.

The real purpose is this:
in what manner do you want
to spend your short life here?

In bitter rancour,
arguing over each small breath?

Or, in loving companionship,
where all differences are accepted with grace?

We disagree.
So?

Are we both so important that our disagreements
will cause the world to end,
or the stars of heaven to fall from the sky?

This and Nothing Else

You will never grow beyond yourself
until you can speak
a word of truth.

And you will never fade slowly into silence,
whilst you trample through this temple
in boots of iron and steel.

Commit no sacrilege
and plunder no heart for its sacred treasure.

This is what the Beloved has ordained.
This and nothing else.

Falling At Your Door

I am no Sikh,
yet I yearn to be the Beloved’s disciple.

I am no Christian,
yet I love Christ with my blood and with my soul.

I am no Jew,
though Moses has stolen my heart.

I am no Buddhist,
though the Enlightened One speaks to me of wisdom.

I am a Muslim, Beloved,
and I seek only to throw this weary self at Your door.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman