Darvish Khan Writes

Green grows the heart’s longing, vines on fire
Breathing your name in love’s ascending gyre.

Green grows the longing heart skyward, bright
Tongues of flame praising the sweet Word of light.

Your name, your bright name is our dawn laughter
That rises and resounds to announce the Master.

Starlight dreams its way into sleeping stone,
Becomes the gold hammered into your throne.

The car that carries you across the sky
Sings your bright name of mercy as it flies.

Meher is light spilling infinite bliss
On all galaxies throughout the universe.

The tangle of wild roses in Darvish’s heart
Have bloodied him with thorn and graceful art.
 

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The brave wolf of Gubbio returns to growl at thieves,
And with bared fangs snarls at those who deceive;

Dove, crow and thrush assemble with hawk and owl
In Tree of Shimmering Leaf- and preach to the dull;

All the fishes of muddy lake, river, ocean and sea
Rise up, and gasp their desperate cry for purity:

“Francis taught the praise of our gifted Creator.
His heart was alive with Love, and is our Savior.”

“But you sleep like stone locked in self-embrace;
Wake up and sing to receive the Master’s grace!”

“Nature longs for the naked song of the pure lover,
Who has surrendered all shame and needs no cover.”

Darvish heard wolf, bird and fish sing such verse;
He sobs in grief that Adam labors on under a curse.

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The Perfect Master reveals the Maha Yoga of you go-
Just like the perfect actor’s self vanishes in a show.

When the I, at last, starts to disappear from the Mind
The Ego whines in protest that it is going blind.

God save us from the bogus Guru, whose real talent
Is to magnify me and mine into the truly repugnant.

When stone eyes sunken in sockets transmute into dust,
The heart surrenders to diamond song of radiant trust.

Life’s desires burn like a match to briefly flare and die.
Our only hope is like a candle to long for love and cry.

When Darvish’s tears freeze as they drip down his face,
The fire of longing will come to an end without a trace.

The grace of the Perfect Master is the gift of surrender
Of all interminable melodrama to love pure and tender.

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The succession of bad ideas we call modern history
Is crowned by Consumerism in all its plastic glory.

The will to power of corporate and military greed
Has poisoned the people with cruel and false needs.

Big Fist occupies the throne with the beast by his side,
In whose solicitous snarling he eagerly confides:

“We are the greatest nation in the history of man-
All countries must pay tribute to our place in God’s Plan.”

Hubris, the ancients say, is the most deadly of sins,
And the only one the gods insist can’t be forgiven.

Rome must burn again and again to prove the truth,
That power and greed self-destruct without reproof.

Darvish gives thanks for fresh bread and a glass of wine;
The cruel marketing of thuggery he loudly declines.

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Last night, I was reminded of how strange life can be-
my dream described a land where the blind can see.

The blind with no eyes at all for surveying this world,
which is but a dull shadow of the bright, creative Word.

They can walk into mirrors and out of their bodies
into a vast silence where nakedness is most godly.

How we all long to befriend the real Queen of Hearts,
and find her in bed beside us- plying her arts!

Thank God, I can’t remember things after they happen-
by the grace of such memory, I’ll survive my own coffin!

Live backwards and you will find yourself giddy at first,
but a good bottle of wine will drown your dreadful thirst.

Darvish woke up wearing a mad hat and white gloves,
but had no need for glasses and nothing at all to prove.

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