Two Worlds, One Reality-A Valentine Poem

Two Worlds, One Reality

-for Osama Bin Laden

i

Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear;
be lost in the Call.

Today is a holiday

Full of trinkets

Some will be treasured

But most forgotten

As life passes by

ii

O you who’ve gone on pilgrimage
where are you, where, oh where?

Hindu Kush mountains

Kush means either killer or throne

Assassin king some call you

With derision and with pride

iii

Poor copies out of heaven’s originals,
Pale earthly pictures mouldering to decay,

We are sacks of stones

Waiting to be thrown

Or meant to adorn

Some peaceful garden’s fountain

iv

There are thousands of wines
that can take over our minds.

Don’t think all ecstasies
are the same!

Many drink from poison cups

Old Gautama said:

If on the hand there is no wound,

one may carry even poison in it.

Poison does not affect one

who is free from wounds.

Dhp IX Papavagga Evil

Who of us is left unwounded

by the burn of the sun

and the cold of the night?

v

say this, “Anything that comes and goes,
rises and sets, is not what I love.”

else you’ll be like a caravan fire left
to flare itself out alone beside the road.

One is not advanced

Nor is another lagging behind

Walking on this road

Where is the shelter of a few trees

Under which to rest?

vi

What has the fine pearl to do with the world of dust?

we are the pearls from the bosom of the sea,
it is there that we dwell

The pearl does not drown

Nor is it’s light seen

through the depths

vii epilogue

Talking is pain. Lie down and rest,
now that you’ve found a friend to be with.

This poem is only my trinket

Given to the wind

I do not know Reality

Who can be sure?

Not you and not me.

But it is also said

Rub thine eyes, and behold the image of the heart.


Rumi quotations are in italics

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One comment on “Two Worlds, One Reality-A Valentine Poem

  1. Pingback: Amanda Palmer’s poem | NellaLou

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