PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

For I am seeking “Thee” closeness my heart cannot hold hatred or sorrow. With the imagination of “Thee love” all sadness become easy, every feeling become new and breezy.



For I am seeking “Thee” love, every thought become meaningful, every memory become pleasant and all my sense become present. And I become “the Nothing” a white page untouched by pen.



With the thought of ‘Thee Love”, feeling pass through me like a strong wave, washing away any anger and pain. Nothing looks the same. There is no one to blame. Everything good comes form “thee” and all the bad comes from my lack of comprehension.



With the remembrance of ‘Thee names”, my soul fly, my heart moves like a passing cloud causing my eyes to rain. How could I “Thee love” claim? For I am a restless beggar all in clay, on his doors I lay. Even if there are obstacles in my way, every direction I turn, it leads me to his circular doors.

Oh! How could I “Thee love” gain? For his love is beyond my twisted heart to attain. I gave up on wishing for anything more than his love to maintain, but in the heart attachment still remain.



My heart cries out “O My beloved Allah don’t leave me to myself for a blink of an eye! For I become like an empty shell without the pearl of your love, for I become all thorn without the blossom of your love.



“O My beloved Allah don’t make this love like a makeup that washes off, for your love is all my hopes, for I am holding strongly to your rope. I fear nothing more losing this tie. Every attempt to describe your love becomes a lie. For my love is like a dust that is barely seen, for I blended my self and melted with your “true lovers” my soul became like the wind catching love fire.



“Oh My Beloved, here are my burned hands and my feet, on your love they could not cheat. Here are your love seeds, planted over the passed years, in fertile soils, in the seashores, on stones and on lifeless lakes, irrigated with lots of falling tears. Here is my pulse in the middle of your love street. And here is my old heart, I scarified like a sheep. For I couldn’t act like the night in covering others faults, for I couldn’t act like a dead in anger. For my heart is still so weak.



Here I am my beloved with so "many springs done with its flowering and so many autumns have taken the leaves.  And I am left with the heavy burden of faded lilies and jasmines!" How can my garden flourish with out you?