Darvish Khan Writes

We have opened the door to our heart and let you in,
to find that we are the stranger and you are the friend.

Base desire has so clothed the mind, we have forgotten
our soul is beauty, but covered by clothes soiled and rotten.

The foul rags of the filthy mind are now so de jure,
we are loath to strip naked and all falsity abjure.

We have no hope of helping ourselves in this matter;
we so love our own modesty- ‘though it be in tatters!

Maybe a kind arsonist will douse us with petrol,
and swift courage will renounce pretension with vitriol?

Lord and master, forgive us for our dull stupidity,
that is only surpassed by our vain cupidity!

Darvish coyly glances at the beloved with a whim:
maybe he will hold his nose and completely undress him!

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In our lost land of fast food and bad breath,
we pray for the rapture to bless our death!

Our resurrection will achieve liftoff.
we will look down on those below and scoff.

A mass ascension for the lucky few:
the refried christian and repentant jew.

The whole family will rise together,
to live with our holy father forever.

We will eat the wonder bread of heaven
and never have to take a shit again.

Our purity will grow and grow until,
we are satiated with divine swill.

Darvish does not want to witness and face
the grand implosion of such sweet grace!

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This land is sacred because of the Master’s and Mehera’s blood
anointing earth.  Splatters of grace will release a healing flood.

The violent promise of America blossomed as a bloodied rose,
and was offered as a tribute to genocide and enslaved Negroes.

The cult of the machine demanded the loveliest sacrifice,
and the energy of our greed exacted an ultimate price.

God-man’s body and his greatest love were smashed by the car:
the lust and anger of our greed will be redeemed by the Avatar.

This land will be convulsed by the pain of our cruel ignorance,
that will one day be healed by the lover’s and Beloved’s innocence.

Lord and Master, forgive us for we know not what will happen;
we had no idea that progress would result in such terrible sin!

Everywhere the earth is crying for the Eternal Beloved’s pain;
but the pride of man will not yet be humbled for mercy’s gain.

Darvish walks the earth and his feet feel the miraculous cry
of the insentient for the wounded beloved who never dies!

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We hunger for the shards of light flashing from your eye;
May they wound our dark mind with brilliance until we die!

Who, if we cried, would hear us among the many gods?
The busy deities are such dull and slow-thinking clods.

One moment of your presence removes all spiritual doubt:
The sons and daughters of man stand and your praises shout!

We have no objection to the pious praying for us-
We are the proud scions of light illuminating dust!

Our lord and master is the beloved of lover’s lane;
We offer at his lovely feet all of our burning pain.

The candle flickering in the altar’s niche, is our spirit
Rising and prostrating with each inspired love-lyric.

Darvish has no thought or feeling left to shape into song:
The candle’s breath expires, and the flame to the Friend belongs.

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A thousand times we have inscribed paper with your eternal name,
only to have shredded our efforts to praise you in bitter shame.

We long to sing glorious song that delights your grave expression,
and we cry to find the talent that intuits your intimations.

Beloved, it’s not easy having you as our perfect master;
all our efforts to please you are often a perfect disaster!

We need your help in developing a convincing argument,
as to why we should not be in need of perfect atonement!

We have more faith in your forgiveness and divine sense of humor,
than in our bungling acts of sincerity and uninspired stupor!

All the many songs we have written and have never sung to you,
are longing to be revised and rehearsed until pleasing and true.

Beloved, sharpen our wit and love into a pure ghazal:
have mercy on Darvish’s plea to light your face with real dazzle!

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