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Gratitude For Knowledge and Teachers

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Recollecting and treasuring the knowledge
That your teachers shared before
Is not merely nostalgia
Nor is it a sign of your acquiescence
Of your teachers’ future errors
Verily, your remembrance is simply gratitude
For the enlightenment you received
And a consolidation of ideas
You deem indispensable
Your gratitude for the past is fundamental
And if your past teachers now thrive,
Gives thanks and praise
And if your teachers now have erred,
Pray for their deliverance
For how much of an ingrate is the one
Who once lingered and traced their shadows
And now sticks a proud nose up in the air
Oblivious of the debts you can’t repay
For the inner light of knowledge and progress….
And do be careful, now, my compadre
As on this theatre of inconsistencies
Who knows if you’ll slip far with ease…
So don’t be so impatient to condemn
The ones who gave you such benefit before….
Advise your seers should they transgress
And prosecute should they oppress
But never forget the good that you received…

The Ocean Speaks To The Voyagers…

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Some would-be sailors reported abuse by a line of skippers, and returned to the shore, heartbroken, anguished, and perturbed.

One of them said: “We must bring them to account! We have been wronged! Looks like there are no true skippers anymore….”

The ocean listened patiently, heard their pain like a mother, and spoke from within the rising and falling waves:

“Wrongs must be addressed…. You must act with unrelenting fairness.. For all who embark upon the journey deserve a fair hearing.”

Waves ascended majestically and then fell, like swooning dervishes; the water swelled, then settled, proclaiming:

“But there will always be true skippers, who have navigated the ocean, who have travelled far, far, far through me and can show you the way. And there have always been false skippers, full of names for my waters, but full of hot air within. So why do you give in? Was I your goal or was the skipper’s good pleasure your idol? Did you pine after my vast mysteries, or were you just enjoying the cruise? Did you think I would let you voyage upon me without some stillness, without the currents throwing you off course, without assailments by pirates dressed in a skipper’s cape? Perhaps there was nothing wrong with the skipper? Perhaps he was a true guide, and the problem was in your self?”

The ocean grew into an almighty breaker, falling with a thunderous clap, then rested and rocked hypnotically:

“Keep your hearts with me, and I will send you everything you need… Keep your attention on my waves, and I will move you further ahead… And absorb the beauty of the light of my full moon… But remember this, the point is not the skipper, the point is the Sea. If I am no longer your one desire, and it’s just all about you or the skipper, then either you are off, or the skipper is off… So, seek redress with the law, if crimes and oppression were perpetrated, for the pirates in the garb of skippers must be rounded up, but keep your gaze on me; make me your one and only concern, make my vastness your dreams.. Remember the signs of a true skipper, and if you gained from any of the skippers on this sea; if you were guided further through my waves, you must show thanks and send your sincere supplications their way- for they are my special ones; I have brought them closer to me…. But also know this, my skippers can never be as vast and as perfect as me…. Never lose hope in the ocean… And enjoy the resplendence of my full moon, which brightens my waters and fills your hearts with light!”

The ocean breathed out like a hidden saint and then slept soundly, like a sleeping baby. They turned their eyes from their troubles, and looked out- the waves shone, like hearts…

The Destruction of Abu Jahl: The Battle of Badr

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The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold… The Destruction of Sennacherib: Lord Byron

The hordes of Quraysh, like a dust storm, arose

And their cohorts were cursing and lining in rows

And the sheen of their spears like the candles that burn

In the idols of Makkah which stand taciturn

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Like the palms in the desert when oases are fresh

The army stood furnished; for battle well-dressed

Like the grains in the desert which scatter and fall

That host in the noon light retreated forlorn

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For the Angels of Justice, with three fighting winds

Of a thousand combatants, cruelty to rescind

And the eyes of these angels came down on Quraysh

Some stricken with horror and fear in disgrace

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And woe to Walid and Shaybah and Utba

Vanquished by Ali, Ubaydah and Hamza

And there lay the pharaoh, the staunch Abu Jahl

Abdullah, the reader, beheaded him well

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And there lay the pebbles, which flew at Quraysh

When Ahmed recited: impaired be their faces!

This army from Makkah quashed by the unseen

A thousand were crushed by three hundred thirteen

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And the widow of Jahl; despaired and bewailed

And the idols of Makkah unsteady and frail

And the might of Quraysh; severed deep by the sword;

Had melted like sunset, by Mustafa’s Lord

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Allahumma Salli wa sallim wa baarik alaiyhi wa alaa aalihi wa sahbihi wa sallim

The Sun Rises

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‘The night comes in / Like some cool river’ Richard Thompson

The Sun rises

In my grieving heart

And now the Light

Soothes all the pain

Feel the daylight

Embracing the grief

Of the world, which turn us insane

The Sun rises

And now my heart breathes

And the Love

Is all that I see

Deeper than blood

Which runs through the veins

And the fears fade into the Light

The Sun rises

Sheening all my dreams

With a gold

That glows eternally

Even if foes

From hidden angles

Besiege my heart

The Light shelters me

Peace eternal

And flowing blessings

On the one

The Sun of the hearts

And upon his

Blessed companions

And his kin

The bearers of the Light