speak to us of friendship

And a youth said:
Speak to us of Friendship!

And he answered, saying:
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay”.
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Khalil Gibran

stranded in paradise

the smell of a rose and
the murmur of the river
and springtime gently
wakes a weary world

drops of dew and
stars shining bright,
the song of nightingales
calling my Beloved

my Love, my Lord
so far away and yet
i feel Your presence
like a loved one gone
to distant lands
i hear Your voice

by this isle, by this garden
the river’s waters flow
but i am lost from having drunk
the wine of knowing Thee

my Beloved, my Desire
such sorrows You faced,
the trials and agonies,
and now, to see You leave,
my heart is rent asunder,
and my soul howls and laments.

a mound of roses,
ever growing at Your feet,
implore You to stay
but God has willed otherwise.

my face turned towards You,
i offer thanks and praise
and at the river’s edge
the tears roll down

may 2, 2005:
12th day of Ridván

small poem

small poem

my love,

the apple of my eye,

the spring that’s in my step,

the sunshine in my sky,

o my love,

the one i cherish most of all,

here, you dropped your subway token.

don’t blink

how come

the dreams i dream

the stars i see

the fires that warm my feet

wink out

blink out

how come

when i lay down my head

i can’t close my eyes

i can’t close my eyes

how come

when it’s a cool summer night

i can’t look up

i can’t look up

how come

when the blizzard blows

i’m outside


to death


to death

don’t blink

a chance goes faster than you think


ever feel

hurled down to the ground

and set soaring free?

it’s a strange combination…

the man is mad, they say

who accepts the will of God

but if such a man is mad,

then sane is insane

and I’d rather not be


set free,

ever feel set free?

in this life of paradox

there is no freedom,

only details, only dreams…

set me free

set me one hand clapping free.

immerse me in honesty.

let me see

the unity

let it become a part of me.

all i have are my prayers

the tears cried in silence
drop from my cheeks,
and fade into the haze.

the hand that dried these tears is long gone
and this strange land offers no relief,
no respite, no calm,
only trials, only tests,
only bitter toil and grief.

memories and dreams of better days
flap in the wind, flutter like moths
and in a gust are blown away.

oh Job, oh patience,
what has become of you?
we were best friends once,
but now all have fallen,
and I stand alone,
or rather slump,
crumpled in the corner.

perhaps I never told you
how much I loved you.
perhaps I never knew
until you were gone.

ere long will this city of exile
surely be a city of light,
but in the meantime
I am shrouded in night,

in this midnight hour
I close my eyes and sit still
and all I have are my prayers.