My witness, watching from behind the veils of the mind,
looks out from my heart.
Look at my looking,
see my seeing,
hear my hearing,
know yourself.
It is He who takes your souls by night and knows what you have earned by day. Then He raises you up therein, so that an appointed term may be fulfilled. Then to Him is your return, and then He will tell you all that you used to do.
Al-An'am 6:60
We have worlds aplenty, lives beyond counting.
If only we had just one!
For this manifestation, kneaded as we are from its air, its water, its earth,
would we quarrel? Would we raise doomsday over it?
We are divided; we cannot share.
We have agreed never to agree.
No, this is no satire; this is us, just us:
in rehearsing the lowest of the low, we are far ahead.
Come, let us die and see:
how lost are you in the sea of words?
Through anyone who is someone passes the thought: “I did not die; he did.”
Love has brought those hearts back to life.
From us, the dead, peace be
upon those living ones, those lamps; blessings without end.
Upon Hazrat Ali, upon our Somuncu Baba, upon Haji Bayram Wali, upon Shams,
upon our master Rumi, upon Tapduk Emre, upon Yunus Emre,
upon Abdul Qadir Gilani, upon Ali Samarqandi, upon Aziz Mahmud Hudayi,
upon Abdullah Baba, upon Haji Bektash Wali,
and upon countless others with them all;
endless thanks be to our Allah.
On that Day the Trumpet is blown. On that Day We shall gather the guilty, their eyes glazed with bewilderment.
Ta-Ha 20:102
Let that reel of film run for each of us:
Is the span as long as a snap of the fingers? Is it not?
Can a worldly lifetime be wholly perceived in the divine realm?
Not even a body is beside you, is there?
Death and what lies beyond: a matter of faith.
Death: the ending of Allah's wish to appear in that identity.
This trial we live through in life:
in some, affirmation; in some, denial.
The paths lead out to the One, and are walked.
States are apportioned among the servants.
Whoever is divided by the One knows himself.
Whoever knows himself knows his Lord.
Ear that hears the footfall of the ant,
can you run from yourself?
So long you have been busy searching;
weeping eye, can you be parted?
You were blackened so that you might be made white, you spoke as a beggar,
as one who prays; drop by drop, can you fall from the tongue?
One face of mine, a pomegranate; one word of mine, a ruby.
While over our world all the souls lie sleeping,
what bliss it is to be Your lover in this world;
how beautiful, a love and tenderness unending,
how beautiful, to worship beneath the stars.
Faik Âli Ozansoy
Do not part us from Your path, O Lord.
Only love, only Hu.
mim