Darvish Khan Writes

the darkening blue of failing light brightens the mind-
we lift our eyes to a beauty that doesn’t blind.

the moon saves us from the wicked brilliance of day;
our mood shifts to the muted light of shadow play.

the beloved has become fully agreeable;
her face is now magnificently visible.

she will wink and flirt all the way to early dawn;
god save us from any kind of impudent yawn!

the long, cool night will be full of delightful play-
you ask about tomorrow? well, let come what may!

darvish cries out with a sharp stab of anxiety;
his flushed face fears an onset of sobriety.

as her pale face and black curls fade from sight,
the early dawn explodes with burning shards of light!

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he who seeks my pleasure, finds my divine treasure.
such a thought is beyond the mind’s grasping nature!

when the beloved speaks, angels and devils listen;
man fumbles to compose his rational question.

to please the beloved is hardly possible;
without his grace it is completely laughable.

the buddha said, all life is immense suffering;
also, the sweet grace of nirvana is everlasting.

the lord and master is merciful beyond belief;
remembering his name creates immense relief!

try and try to please his impossible demands;
swallow your breath each moment is his one command.

darvish has a sharp idea about some of this:
he longs for the day when his agony becomes bliss!

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[cincopa AYHA4e6tPQ82]a cold wind blows from the north with the scent of red rose,
my heart cries out “saginaw” where raw spirit purely grows.

the blushing faces of proud resistance in hostile land,
stir my blood with the promise that victory is at hand.

the vanguard of the coming revolution is awake-
our lost way of life, full of longing faith, is at stake.

earth is now yearning with a vital aspiration;
our minds tremble at our bitterly frozen nation.

we must plant our hands to discover the living truth:
that all is lost except for beauty’s vibrant growth.

the poets’ singing armies march out across the white land;
our greenhouse magic will make a thorny and bloody stand!

darvish remembers the great who have crossed over the sea;
none have the brilliant green hands of theodore roethke!

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“The greatest story ever told” is about power and gold:
early on church history put truth and beauty on hold.

That Christ is son of man and woman is lovely in deed-
Mary’s purity received Joseph’s immaculate seed!

Christ’s greatest love was the chaste and beautiful Magdalene:
She was not a whore, but slandered by petty, jealous men!

She remains the greatest apostle- she never denied
the life of Jesus, and she never believed he had died.

Mary, obedient and with invincible speechless grief,
carefully attended his unconscious body with vital faith.

She was by his side two days later when he groaned with pain;
her prescient love agonized for his life to remain.

She and others decided to spirit him far away;
they left quickly, after he “appeared” over a few days.

Jesus, the real ascetic, who threw away cup and comb,
traveled the world and finally in India made his home.

All of Darvish’s tears about the lies of rich priests,
become joyous when truth and beauty are released.

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