Celestial Dance of Death

Show me, oh celestial ball of fire
Was it Giazotto or Albinoni?

Perhaps we shall learn during our dark waltz in this courtyard of graves
to an orchestra whose prelude brings me the thought of You

Certainly do shivering leaflets notice our charming science
And will not a flourish of dancing birds watch us in geometric symphonies?
They learn from bodies of water
Above and below.

A pantomime raises one finger to the sky –
All do shudder.

Kiss me with your fire!
Lay your flames upon my lips
Burn light upon my pale body
Surely is it time for our darkest dance

Sayr wa Suluk & Ethical Beauty

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Rilke

Life is too short. I remember my great grandfather praying with his eyes before he passed and I remember the importance of priority. I close my eyes and see brown soil piled on a brother’s body as his widow wept; a tragedy too harrowing, reminding me that love for a spouse is but a further impetus toward returning to God. I remember and see raw systemic issues circulating our world and in order to reform families and communities and work toward my sustainable ethic, I need to reform and evolve my soul first. As I write this, I cry over the infinitely growing and expanding Opening toward God in every moment. A moment, in its stillness, is more encompassing of the Universe than anything within me.

In ethical beauty you will find tawhid, that I can promise.

I welcome the poetics of nature, the sacred revival of speaking to the Sun, and allowing a tree to penetrate my heart.

My Lord, allow me to breathe beauty till my last. Protect and keep me in the company of those who remember You. I surrender myself.

In your life you get some pleasant breaths from your Lord. Make a point of being benefited by them and do not turn away from them.

-Allamah Tabataba’i


Stages of Spiritual Journey by Allamah Muhammad Husayn Tabataba’i
Sayr wa Suluk: Spiritual Journey

First Awakening | Only God can Lift the Fog

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I am aware of and recognize the raw reality and responsibility individuals bear in their conception on this earth; no one is capable of genuinely caring for my well-being and spiritual ascension toward God except myself. No one else should. This universal truth is my first and most important awakening.

My thoughts are constantly about my grave and how the preparation begins now. I value the imperative of understanding this lesson before being partnered.

I will always cry to God first. Though, there are times I can be confused and yearn for human love, affection and touch. I yearn for it so I may also give back and share in the struggle; individual but united. One of my thematic strengths is being restorative; and now I’m learning the power of disengaging not only with the material world, but also people.

My narrative feels chaotic to me and has been disruptive to my healing. I have self-blamed excessively which hindered my growth. Are we not imperfect? Are we not flesh and soul, forgetful insan? So I focus on the present, because the present is His. Repentance begins when you feel shame. There is a lesson of love which God is teaching me in the most important and beneficial way. There is a hikmah intertwined with pain and it is calculated accordingly.

As I linger in a mysterious silence, I grow to see my beauty. I need not prove it to any other to feel whole. This is a painstaking but necessary process. My heart is not mine. It is His. And I will return it to Him in the most beautiful way.

I remember these Qur’anic verses:

وَمَن يَتَّقِ اللَّـهَ يَجْعَل لَّهُ مَخْرَجًا ﴿٢﴾ وَيَرْزُقْهُ مِنْ حَيْثُ لَا يَحْتَسِبُ ۚ وَمَن يَتَوَكَّلْ عَلَى اللَّـهِ فَهُوَ حَسْبُهُ ۚ إِنَّ اللَّـهَ بَالِغُ أَمْرِهِ ۚ قَدْ جَعَلَ اللَّـهُ لِكُلِّ شَيْءٍ قَدْرًا

Whoever is wary of Allah, He shall make for him a way out [of the adversities of the world and the Hereafter  and provide for him from whence he does not count upon. And whoever puts his trust in Allah, He will suffice him. Indeed Allah carries through His commands. Certainly, Allah has ordained a measure [and extent] for everything.

There is great beauty in finding and bathing in stillness during immense sorrow which carves into your being. The test bears witness to our faith as we are asked and pressured to rebuild. Surely that glimmer of hope during our shipwreck is none other than the Almighty.

There is a language between life and death. Only when we die will we truly have lived. We live and we die in every moment. Socrates has suggested that one cannot truly fulfill an examination of their life until it has ended.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountaintop, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Yes, only He can lift the fog.

Light as a Feather

While the seasons will undo your soul
Time forgives us and it takes control
But separate our things to put us back together

We’re light as a feather
Heavy as the weather,
If it was raining stones

Put our hands together to applaud or pray
It’s like a show was over but we’re too scared to walk away
All for the better, worse for the way

We’re light as a feather
God, You and I together
Meanwhile inside me, it was raining stones
You didn’t know
God bless your soul

We’re light as a feather
Heavy, as the weather
We’re light as a feather
God, You and I together

The Astrologer that tumbled into a Well

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A mirroring on being intellectually ill. Or something. 


Let, for want of due repair,
A real house fall down,
To build a castle in the air?

– Charles Denis


A witty and attractive Thracian servant-girl is said to have mocked Thales for falling into a well while he was observing the stars and gazing upwards; declaring that he was eager to know the things in the sky, but what was behind him and just by his feet escaped his attention.

– A fragment on Thales from Plato’s Theaetetus