Before Your door standing, all senses blend
Stacked blocks of confusion and clarity bend
up the sides of the jamb toward the center they’ll meet.
Here, the Sufis’ tattered fabrics interlock and mend.
One is cautioned to not make sense of perfection
Nor linger idly, unguided, at the intersection
Of these matters of mind and spirit and soul
For each becomes indistinct in their divine connections.
Thou art the seamless blanket of evening snow
Such depths which no traces of angles show
Beneath that, You are hidden colors and shades,
A sinuous surface of a boundless white glow.
A fair curving visage on a path narrow and straight
Yet I, the broken bristle left in this finished portrait
Tis’ Thine infinite tapestry of fine threaded similes
that I’d need a thousand more lifetimes to articulate.
Temptation stirs lips, alight at passion’s precipice
Where lovers leap from the threshold to the Beloved’s kiss
Lo, the Quran was not revealed to convey God’s love,
But to protect us from that love’s pure and blinding bliss.