Darvish Khan Writes

the beautiful pathan princess fled her wedding for god,
she wandered in the wilderness desperate to find her lord.

she had cheeks like red roses- golrokh was her early name;
her fragrant spirit and ardent love for god was her fame.

for decades she lived and walked the desolate path alone;
at last she met the master and by his grace took her throne.

the crown and throne and orb of a god realized emperor:
the sky her roof, the ground her bed and a rock her pillow.

she travelled the islamic world, even went to mecca;
at about one hundred, she finally came to poona.

her name was now babajan, and her seat by a neem tree;
everything about her was fiercely beautiful and free!

darvish, she sobbed to meet at last her spiritual son:
one day merwan rode by, she kissed him- his advent had begun!

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the master is always eloquent in his expressive silence;
he both inspires the intellect, and abides in holy presence.

it is our spiritual odyssey to find space between our thoughts;
we walk hand in hand with you after passing through the clashing rocks.

we long for the blessed landscape of your divine companionship;
lord and master, help us to surrender the mind in your worship!

the darkening blue revolving dome above with stars of twinkling light,
is your celestial coat with bright stitches of light for the night.

our greatest problem is to turn around and find we are still here;
if only the devil himself could help us truly disappear!

may our diabolical genius detonate like hell’s fireworks;
let the friend be well entertained, and save us from going beserk!

the bird of twilight complained to the departing rose, please don’t leave-
the morning will never come, and poor darvish will the long night grieve!

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The sea of mercy refers to the sufi master;
this friend is the one who saves you from disaster!

You can sink in base desire- what is called the nafs;
or you can swim to the rhythm played by the daf!

The murshid is most kind and believes in your pain;
he is the one whose loving regard is most sane!

Why fault the Muslim who is surrendered to god-
the ignorant opportunist is just a clod!

Wake up, america, to the sufi path of love;
it is the rabid demagogue who should get the shove!

Do we not all have the right to love together-
or is it only the Christian who knows better?

Darvish drums the fundamentalist on the ass;
the Bible thumpers have no beat- they are so crass!

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the lover gone crazy is a pathetic sight:
everyone is embarrassed by a majnun’s plight.

the madness of such overwhelming love is rare;
sober society can only stand and stare.

the one seized by love becomes a local event;
however, the lover remains indifferent!

the lover gone majzoob is a special instance;
only in the east does one drown in divine bliss!

this happens most often in holy india;
such intense exalted love is not trivia!

it is said, majnun loved layla with such a will,
his head came to rest on the perfect master’s sill!

look, if you think darvish is spinning a story-
you have no idea about god’s own glory!

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We have become superb robots of base desire;
Our conditioned thinking is machine inspired!

We are most obedient to depraved craving;
The pure and simple is no longer worth saving.

We are more enthralled by a neon Vegas choir,
Than we are by the simple worship of holy fire.

Nature used to be a direct analogy for God;
The elements now are no more than a silly fad.

Let’s applaud the spectacular ongoing regress,
Of the sickness we unfortunately call progress.

We must be drunk for us to so badly stumble;
We cry out in pain as the world starts to crumble.

Darvish, the lord and master suffers beyond belief;
His infinite love and mercy will bring us relief.

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No man knows his father, says the poet Homer;
All epic struggle seeks to discover one’s donor.

“Who am I” was the original conception:
All subsequent answers have been a deception.

This initial whim is full of great frustration:
Life after life renews the answer to one question.

We all long to return to where it all began:
The mother of all wombs and the cosmic bang!

Don’t bother with tracing your adoption service;
We are all ragged orphans crying out for bliss.

Sad Darvish feels abandoned by his creator,
as he receives an embrace from his dear savior!

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The ocean wave has carried us into your presence;
Our helplessness promises love’s renascence.

We can’t see you, but we feel your furious mood:
The grace and blast of great spirit has condensed.

Violent rain pounds the angry rolling horizon;
We are lost in our tossing boat without defense.

Our blood throbs with a rocking sea borne motion,
Our still brain has been beaten into common sense:

There is no god but God, and he is the lord of death:
We raise our hands in praise of the raw and immense.

Our aching eyes have been purified by your salt;
The courageous heart is washed clean of all pretense.

With each breath we die to the succession of the next;
Darvish cries like a bawling baby in consequence.

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wherever nandi is, shiva is not too far away;
the bull is the gate keeper who blocks strangers from the way.

to approach and meet god you must have a beloved friend;
only the perfect master can all confusion upend!

the glorious guru has become fully god conscious;
avatar is god revealed as man, by such a master’s kiss.

strive to receive the avatar’s overflowing grace,
as you lift your glass in praise of his merciful face!

when the lord himself out of compassion takes human birth,
oceans of love wash and purify our worn and tired earth.

now is the time to rejoice in ancient jubilation;
our beloved god has come down to our earthly station!

darvish was walking in the garden when he was nuzzled;
nandi licked his cheek with a warm wet kiss that dazzled!

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i often think of my favorite actress- god’s own sister;
she possessed a bright wit, and was beauty’s great lover.

as a little girl she was a jump rope champion;
she was the beloved’s mehera’s life long companion.

what a pride she had in pirouetting on a dime!
she was a verbal master, and an excellent mime.

she encouraged me in the study of persian language;
she herself spoke simple dari with great advantage.

her cheerfulness was astonishing and delightful:
immense patience made her remarkably skillful.

“to be god’s sister was not easy”, i heard her once say;
she was a serious student who had mastered life’s play.

mani is a jewel who still sparkles in darvish’s mind;
most of all, my thought of her is of someone very kind!

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the selfsame avatar has had many different births;
the god-man thousands of times has walked this very earth.

the same one glorious sun has many different names;
light is not diminished because of linguistic claim!

how is that jesus has become the one and only savior-
why would one prophet among many enjoy such favor?

christian fundamentalists are such a brainy lot;
the bible as the literal word of god- what total rot!

the same holds true for the koran, to a lesser degree:
the text is not corrupt, but the “reading” is sure nasty!

forget about the books- even the big buddhist canon-
silence is much more impressive regarding the atman!

why are all the lovely occasions of god forgotten?
darvish shouts out, it’s all those books rotting and rotten!

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