More than Words !

  the cobweb of desires covers the delicate heart the more your try to escape the more you get trapped why do you reason so much? the riddle eternal needs no solving the market never closes until the breath is lost the cloister never closes until the breath is lost the secret of breath is that it never ceases even when the body is dust why do you fear so much? the will divine embraces the soul there is only one speaker in all the voices all the stories shared and told do not dwarf your vision do not submit to greed if your heart is burning remember to look within the sojourning is a happy pilgrimage unaffected by passage of time Rabia cried and said, ‘I am burnt, I am consumed’ I pray we get burned and consumed too Oh! eternal flame walking the path of Roses

wo ishq hi kya jo rulaye na  khudko khudse bhulaye na                                 dil-e-dard se jo awaj aati hai wo awaj hi kya  jo aap ke liye gungunaye na  chalne ka adab hum na jane bulbulke awaj se chalte hai   bas ek zikr rakhte hai  mohabbat ke rashate dil aap pe kurban karte hai  dil-e-dard se awaj aati hai bas gulab hi use sunpati hai  haqiqat baqa hai aur sab fana  hamari haqiqat aap ke duwae hai  aap hamari dawa nafs ko paak rakhe kaise  aye! mere ruh bata la ilaha illallah

Khawaja piya said to the beholder, stop wrestling with the pigs ‘you will only get dirty’ yet the self kept wrestling with the mind  trying to cut the nafs  O! foolishness with what swiftness the nightingale approached the rose  to wound the heart  with grace  O! Fana  erasing the mind from the mind  O! Baqa  unerasable eyes  the wound is a blessing  the tears its joy  when Ilm and Ishq merge  there is only an eternal path and no ploy walking in adab of love  let yourself be cut deepest from the wound flows the light  blessed is the heart that pains  that cries in the beauty of sunrise  the mirror of truth is hidden  in the inevitable sorcery of mind  let yourself be cut deepest and be one with the truth  only the heart that pains remembers  to pray with the truth  Ilm and Ishq cleanses the mirror  the torment unites the extremes  the string of heart pierces the nafs  ...

Note: In the story below, the King is the Self; the Garden is Life; Gardener is Sophia, the wisdom; with wisdom, the king must build his earthy paradise. Gardener’s silent witnessing of the seasons is natural awareness. Witnessing the ever-changing seasons of the soul. The eternal flowing in the waters of consciousness. Gently, peacefully, nolens volens. The palace is the body. The Queen is the breath. A great king once wished to make the greatest palace in the world for his queen; and the greatest garden around it. As the palace was built and ready, he wished to plant the garden. And he sought for the greatest known gardener in all mortal realms. The king wanted his palace and garden to be an earthly paradise. The wisest and most skilled gardener was found and brought before the king.   The gardener was a very old wise woman, and she agreed to create the garden as the king wanted. Selecting a nearby spot around the palace, she sat down. Silently. Winter slowly passed. Summer and t...

the snow is falling in the mountains.. from azure blue to white to that yellow sun.. streams of reveries of worlds in the water cycle of life.. pebbles; every moment a pebble universe of infinity.. oh, emerald emptiness, the river ganga flowing through the crown jewel of ShivaSakti... the evening wind of mornings yawn.. in sleep all is one.. in wakefulness all is one.. the distance is but a mirage.. crystal winter is painting the mountains white for you, the current of waterfalls slowly uniting in white is now dancing in the rainbow color of light.. remember to dance in the coldest winter night enveloped in the warmth of darkest dark.. where darkness and light unite  .... a painting inprogress inspired from Nicholas Roerich

When a culture faces epistemological breaks, it suffers a fate of subversion, for it cannot unhinge itself from the imaginal blockages. It limits itself from entering the realm of the unknown. This is when a culture loses its respect to philosophy, and spirals out as its own doom. In this abandonment of the respect to philosophy, how will the culture break free from its own shadow and integrate itself in to the possibility of a future, a NEW future, a FREE future? A future where imagination is an act of knowledge, not sleep. Take for example a culture which constructs of a family of four living a happy life. Very happy middleclass life. That’s what most of the 7 billion of us can dream for and achieve. Or maybe it is the best-case scenario. But for how long? The inner voices will be too loud before the family itself will collapse. It is bound to collapse. It is collapsing. It has collapsed in a lot of human places of plastic perfection and deep sleep. A state of forgetfulness ...

.. there stood she again staring down the narrow tunnel of memories .. a twilight masked as the dusk covering her journey as the quiet spider making its move toward her favourite book, for unknown reasons… the invisible and uncontrollable rumble of the thinker... lying in the bed… a silent flickering thought of how this world is unfair to itself.. .. or how the loved one seems to be so unfair or may be love .. who remains awake looking at her from both corner of the highway.. and also leaves with every vehicle that passes this way.. but does it matter?.. her freedom… the facade so bright and clear she is free, she thinks she is free… only escaping the torture of folded realities .. who is thinking that thought?... gazing upon the shapes of the shadow laid upon by her dreams, …??who is this dreamer gardening the flowers of outlined direction, directionless caring if the outlook of freedom should look in a certain way, and if not, it's not fair ..engaged so deeply i...