New Work Book of Songs

song of remembrance

this love i feel for you, hide within myself
where is its sky, why is the horizon pain
what becomes of a song afraid to leave the heart

love me! is the unheard cry of the universe
love me! is the only cry we hear
love me! lives on and on

gives trees their rootedness
branches fire
earth tenderness

prevents the sun
from coming too close
to the object of its desire

why is this preciousness placed so deep
that it cannot be found, where is the logic
of hiding it if we can never find it

* * *

ruin the self that hides the treasure! you say
the treasure always lies beneath the ruins!
let go of what you find of you to find me!

clouds let go of themselves, then rain falls
water lets go of itself, then plants grow
you do not diminish by bearing fruit! let go!

do not be wide-eyed like suspicion
this love you are afraid to feel
this song you are afraid to sing

is not yours to hide
was mine, mine
to give to whom i pleased

given to you to give to whom you please
and i will be there to receive it, to hear it
to sing it with you, a love that has no end

6 november 2002
4.20 - 6.35am

song of longing

i follow you as a stream follows falling terrain
only in falling can i move forward, only then can you catch me
for you lie so low, like a mist-soft blanket covering the ground

i long to return home, to the home within you i left behind
but since you have made a home for yourself in my sky-earth heart
i have nowhere to go, can only follow you, follow the falling terrain

of my searching, the stream flowing through my consciousness
as you become a mist that envelopes me, then lifts suddenly
and i am alone, but not lonely, lost-found, content

7 november 2002
4.40-6.00am

song of silence

song that lies within me, your silence fills me with longing
the longing of a blank page for words that will make it a poem
or of a poem for colour that will make it a sky or sea or earth
or for music that will make it live, a song that can lie within me
silently filling my world with beauty and the scent of love

love that lies within me, your beauty fills me with silence
the silence between the notes of music without which there is none
the space between the words in a poem without which there is no poem
the nothingness that makes everything possible, gives everything life
makes me you, you me, and makes all things that live and love, free

8 november 2002
4.25 - 5.15am

song of grace

song that lies within you, grace that becomes you
beneath the blushing evening sky your heart beats like a star

colours are your words speaking to us without language
green says, befriend me, i am the gift of abundance

blue says to green, so am i, and yellow and red and brown
cry out, we are all the same, do not forget we are your kin

the morning takes the evening by the hand, afternoon
not wishing to be left behind wedges itself between the two

plants multiply afraid of being accused of lacking generosity
grape vines produce grapes that do not fear being squashed

or eaten, believing that for the giver happiness lies in giving
not even bothering to notice the compliments we pay

flowers are the breath of your hesitance, your reluctance
to overwhelm us with your beauty, sand and stone your humility

trees are your commitment, big or small they all count
and everything everywhere is able to live without us

we whose need is the greatest, whose song is not our own
but borrowed from the streams and rivers and trees, borrowed

from the wind and the air we breathe, from the sights we see
from the sounds we hear, from the grace of a love revealed

9 november 2002
4.55 - 6.40 am

song of loneliness

song that lies like a lake
in the heart, loneliness
is your companion

the light glowing within you
is not that of the sun
nor that of the moon

its source is deeper than time
its reflection cannot be mirrored
unless the mirror is its reflection

its cry is its fire
in which nothing
except love survives

song that lies like a lake
in the heart, loneliness
is your companion

10 november 2002
4.15 - 6.30am

song of time

time is the skin of space
covers the body of thought

allows existence to breathe
love to know itself

it is timelessness
reflected in its own mirror

11 november 2002
4.35 - 5.45 am

song of concealment

to find me, you say, question where i am
before assuming who i might be

where better to hide a song than in silence
where better to hide silence than in a song

where better to hide love than in sorrow
where better to hide sorrow than in love

where better to hide eternity than in the transient
where better to hide the transient than in eternity

where better to hide an ocean than in a raindrop
where better to hide a raindrop than in an ocean

where better to hide the self than in selflessness
where better to hide selflessness than in the self

where better to hide light than in darkness
where better to hide darkness than in light

where better to hide the truth than in the heart
where better to hide the heart than in the truth

12 november 2002
2.55 - 3.45 am

song of life

the young child at its mother's breast never forgets
the many-layered warmth on which it rests its head

so much of what we say and do, return as a gift to you
reflects a song we've heard, sometimes before our birth

growing older we post sentries at the doors of grace
shielding ourselves from hurt we smother the infant

that knows the song of love we need to hear and sing
of possibilities that give life its life, that bring us closer

than we might dare to an essential self that breathes
without fear of any failing of the generosity of the air

13 november 2002
3.00 - 4.00 am

song of sorrow

how often peace itself becomes the cruel logic for war
the make-up of hope that masks the face of our greed
has never lost its soul, but those who are branches
of the tree of love always know the reality of the one
despite the presence of the other, see in a branch being cut
for wood, loss becoming warmth, life, essence itself: divine

spring so often stays on in their hearts, when winter
rains its ruin around them, or autumn like a listless leaf
is swept away by a friendless wind, a homeless vagrant
that comes and goes, steals enough to reveal its presence
sings a song full of emptiness, of a traveller in the desert
whose skin-bag is intact but emptying like a fading dream:
so who will we turn to when the skin peels off our lies

who will we comfort the next time when children die
in their mothers' arms - who will we solace when we place
the candle of regret in the place where a man once stood -
how will we fill the void, the empty spaces created by the fires
we will light to darken the earth - what shade will we rest in
when we fall asleep, our world destroyed - in a war for peace

14 november 2002
1.45 - 3.40 am

song of love
for mevlana jelaluddin rumi
recalling a visit to his shrine in konya

you might have wondered as you heard me cry
when we met, how a seven-hundred-year-old grief
could live in a fifty-year-old heart, and thought no doubt
in that gentle day, fast-forwarding into night, that here
is an errant bird that has finally made it to its home

is a river at its source separate from the sea, i ask
the question, you say, reflects the answer you seek
when love answers love, joy replaces questions

i danced just there where you are standing now
and gathered in one shams-lit moment, such beauty
as only the one who loves knows is possible, that lives

as we live and shines with the truth that lies within us:
so dance if you can, as one day you must; this madness
is all we have to show for the burdens we choose to lose
but first you need to stop your tears; they are affecting
the person behind you trying to take a photograph of love

15 november 2002
1.30 - 2.45 am

song of loss

the sky loves you from the safety of its height
the sea loves you from the safety of its depth
the air loves you from the safety of its breath

but you say to me, safety will not set you free
do not love me from the horizon of your mind
do not love me from the shore of your self

do not love me only because of some need
and yet do not be afraid to walk on me
to leave the scar of your humanity on my face

and do not become blinded by your own light
lest like darkness you stumble over yourself
like arrogance fall through the net of my mercy

the smallest of my creations is not a moth but infinity
look around you and you will see that the universe
is nothing but my amazement and you are its centre

so do not be afraid; even though you may not know me
or yourself, i shall love you; but if you leave yourself
for me i shall make your loss a lasting light of love

16 november 2002
3.00 - 5.25 am

song of surrender

this love that flutters like a wing in the wind
at the breath of the lightest thought
of your presence
surrenders

alternately
to hope and fear
a song surrendering to a songwriter
rising and falling, its prayer an open wound

17 november 2002
4.30 - 5.45 am

song of peace

the peace we seek
does it descend into the heart
from above or arise from within

how does it enter or leave
without coming or going unless
it is both always there and never

are winter and summer as different as we imagine
when light itself bears the seed of darkness
and darkness of light

when the snow covers the ground
and nothing moves on the earth's surface
and the sky is open-mouthed in wonder

is it because of the stillness it sees
or is it marvelling at the pulse of the silence
that throbs unseen like a smouldering fire below

can the sky know peace until its wings are clipped
by humility; can the sea know peace unless
its passion is held in check by countless shores

how can peace pervade our hearts
if we are not content with being who we are
or accept that we may be less than we think we are

absorbed in ourselves we become a shadow
of light; absorbed in peace we become
light created from a shadow

18 november 2002
1.10 - 4.40 am

song of the heart

i am the heart, i am king, queen, subject and executioner
sometimes i make the laws the intellect passes as legislation
sometimes i remain above the law, sometimes the law remains
beneath my contempt; i do as i like when i like, but i can also be
the servant of the lover and the loved, decide who lives or dies

i give shelter to the homeless sky, provide refuge to the exiled
earth, allow rain to fall without it having to ask permission, allow
the seasons to change, give time its form, the mind its presence
i give colour to colour, add music to music, i soften the harsh
landscape of logic, the reason i give it love as its companion

i am the key to the treasure of knowing and the treasure
the heart within the heart, i am the unknown, known only to itself
i am the forgotten principle, the presence in every absent thing
the absence when anyone tries to know me without my presence
i am the song and the silence; i am love, lover, beloved; existence

19 november 2002
2.00 - 4.20 am

song born of itself

song born of itself
a nameless word
that saw itself on fire
and cried out in ecstasy
be, be me

and the song reverberated within
the word and went without its name
but never without the word
flowing like a stream of time

flowing nowhere yet every
where in its own space
creating light within itself
from the light within itself

the song dancing as it moved
universe upon universe forming
from the tiny ripples of its laughter
from its joy at the birth of its freedom

the beginning of the naming
of the nameless, the song resting
on the sky to catch its breath before
falling upon the earth and disintegrating
into countless songs in a crescendo of creation

20 november 2002
1.20 - 2.40 am

song of gentleness

you have picked up the prayer beads
that spilt out of your hands like stars
and now the night is leaving
once it has made up its mind
there is nothing to do but watch it go

the moon, like my heart, will linger on
like a thirst that cannot be quenched
caressing the face of the sky, kissing
the half-closed eyes of the waking light
before fading out of sight

as i have faded, so often, so often
standing alone on this side of eternity
but tonight i hear you say to me
with a tenderness that is almost
more difficult to bear than loneliness

the moon never leaves me; why do you
long for the memory of an illustration
when the artist lives within you
drown, if you must, in love; for you
cannot submerge your reflection in me

21 november 2002
1.20 - 4.45 am

song of submission

the first of all songs, but one we hear
only in the end, submission arrives
as unexpectedly as summer

hiding in winter's clothing; waking up
before another dawn i went outside; saw
the full moon veiled by a cloud; heard

a voice, your voice, i think, say to me
you were fast asleep an hour ago
as i watched over you

i was dreaming a dream of submission
i said: i dreamt i dragged a heavy stone
within my heart to the top of a steep hill

then sent it hurtling down where
it shattered into a myriad stars
that rose into the sky

that is why on waking i came outside
to look for you; but i, you smiled, have
always been on the inside, with you

22 november 2002
2.00 - 3.25 am

song of lament

you have not called today
waiting for the heart to ring
like a telephone, i think

how strange for a sea
to come flooding in
with a thought

yet this is how it should be
love filling every emptiness
until nothing is unclaimed

but we are more afraid of love
it seems, than of not loving
more afraid of the cure

than of the disease itself;
if what makes us human
also makes us divine

why choose to be neither;
what value love, if there is
no place for it in our hearts

23 november 2002
2.40 - 4.30 am

song for ruxanna

i promise that i will write you a love poem
if you have not seen yourself in everything

i write about, not seen yourself in the blue
of the sky or in the pain i may or may not

have written about, not heard me say
i love you, in all of my loving

i promise that i will write you a love poem
every time i write any poem about love

and moreover, i promise not to confuse you
by writing about love other than for you

writing about light falling like petals, or lying
like a treasure beneath the ruins of my self

i will write instead about the light with which
you rebuild my being and how much i love you

but words themselves so often get in the way
and i may say it is a beautiful day

when i mean to say i love you
so it may be safer to say, i love you

when i want to say i love you, even if it means
that if i keep saying i love you, i may no longer

have any time to keep my promise
my promise to write you a love poem

23 november 2002
5.00 - 6.00 am

24 november 2002
4.00 -5.40 am

song of giving

how ill at ease we might be
in the home of a stranger

how much at home we are in yours
is it because you gave others the title deeds
and kept only love and its giving for yourself

how far we might have needed to travel
to find such generosity, had you wanted this

but you, being you
throw air at us until we cannot breathe
throw light at us until we cannot see

a strange example of value
imagine no scarcity!

how will we learn to share this land
unless of course we follow you; find joy
in living and being: not in wanting

to own our graves from birth, settling instead
for the gift of love; its value, insufficiency!

23 november 2002
9.40 - 10.15 am

song of light

a flame lights a candle
brighter than the sun

in the instant it wavers
before becoming alive

an ocean of mercy is formed
in which all things are created

the flame sets the wax on fire
but it is the wick that burns

love dissolving the lover
at the beloved's return

24 november 2002
2.15 - 3.15 pm

song of yearning

come, you say to me, without yourself
become one with nothing
leave behind the shadow of your existence
become the light that gives life to everything

come, you say to the mountains, without yourself
leave behind your fixed skywardness
your head is too much in the clouds
your awkward silence confuses the morning
makes it feel it has been seen without its make-up

come, you say to me, without yourself
become one with nothing

come, you say to the sea, without yourself
let your restlessness rest on a bed of stillness
leave behind your dispassionate passion
despite your endless years of courtship
have you ever known the fullness of the moon

come, you say to me, without yourself
leave behind the shadow of your existence

come, you say to the sun, without yourself
your light dazzles the earth and the sky but blinds you
have you ever seen the countless colours in your soul
known the tender warmth of love or felt a breeze
or been amazed by the gentleness of rain

come, you say to me, without yourself
become the light that gives life to everything

come, you say to all you see, without yourself
for everything you are, there is more that you are not
if you are the sea, you are still not the rain
if you are the sky, you are still not the air
if you are the sun, you are still not the warmth

come, you say to me, without yourself
become one with nothing
leave behind the shadow of your existence
become the light that gives life to everything

come, you say to all that exists, without yourself
for everything you are, there is more you can be
the mountain one day must lose its strength to be free
the earth one day must lose its energy to be at peace
so come now, without yourself, if you cannot wait to find me

28 september 2002 25 november 2002

5.00 - 5.15 pm 4 .00 - 5.45 am

the refrain rest of poem

song of mercy

song that forms within my heart
like the well of zam-zam

at the feet of the thirsty child
of abandoned love

your mercy
sustains all life

beneath the surface of every need
in every grieving desert of despair

a song that is the air that buoys
the wings of the sky, the bewilderment

on which rests an ocean
in the heart of the intellect

this is your song, your gift to love
of its soul that makes reality possible

26 november 2002
2.00 - 2.45 am

song of the mundane

sprouting in the ears of corn
running down the noses of leaves
drooling from the mouths of flowers

this too is love

the cataracts in the eyes of age
the wrinkled skin of wisdom
the dry white hair of time

this too is love

multiplying the fruit
instead of dividing the land
adding care, subtracting hate

this too is love

noticing the darkness of the sun
or the light that breaks open
from a new-born wound

this too is love

mending a fragile thought
rebuilding hope from despair
washing dishes with one's hands

this too is love

the pebble thrown into a stream
with no hope of being retrieved
free to unburden its hardness

this too is love

meticulously arranging words
into a net to catch the early light
before it solidifies and is drowned

this too is love

picking up the litter when the work
for the day is done so that night
will not need to hide it

this too is love

26 november 2002
5.00 - 6.30 am

song of togetherness

night

and the crescent moon
nailed to this sky's
southern cross

sings
the songs of david
while earth like buddah

sleeps

26 november 2002
7.30 –7.45 am

song of gratitude

when in your loving us, your love becomes our love
our very inhalation creates an inner light

our every exhalation extinguishes the self; pausing
between the two, reflects our gratitude to you

when the sky pauses between each breath
the stars pulse in gratitude, when the tides pause

between each ebb and fall, somewhere a shore
humbles itself as it prepares to receive its guests

when trees pause between the desire to grow
higher to be closer to the sky and the desire

to stay lower to be nearer the earth, they do so only
because of their love for you, unsure which is better

when we are asked to elongate each sound
as we echo your name in our hearts

we are not unique; the wind also does the same
all things that love you, praise you; their gratitude

in the subtle language of the heart translates
into the essence of love that sustains all life

27 november 2002
1.00 - 2.15 am

song of dying

our ashes will sing and cry
to be redeemed with light
when fire itself
has robbed them of life

what light then can we hold on to
when only light can hold on to light
we ask; and can light ever perish
or is light far too bright

if not light, what is it that perishes
is it the flesh
of the day or the night
the physical stain of the spiritual

not the spirit itself; does it matter then
that a form of life one day turns to ash
when what becomes ash can never be
other than what is waiting to be so

our ashes in their loneliness
may sing and cry; but the lightlessness
that lies like ash in a dispirited heart
who hears the song it sings

27 november 2002
5.00 - 5.45 am
8.00 - 9.15 pm

song of creation

everything is born spiritually
before its physical birth

the song is born in your mind

time confuses us but only time
could have created time itself

the song in your mind is the song we hear

and what is time before and after
it creates time but timelessness

but we hear the song only when we hear it

surely the timeless does not have to wait
to hear its song unfold, that would be absurd

you hear the song before you sing it

as it would be to believe that space
is other than spacelessness

there is only one song and no other song

the universe, rumi says, is nothing more
than a strand of thought in the mind of god

the song that exists in your mind

28 november 2002
2.15 - 4.15 am

song of beauty

the morning will have no recollection of its beauty
by the evening, the memory of love cannot survive
in isolation, no matter how beautiful the moment

its light falling in streams of loosely plaited hair
remains memorable only when it rests against
the skin of the day's consciousness of being in love

being overwhelmed by the sudden soaking rain
of knowing, its longing arching like the slender back
of a tall tree that achingly follows the sunlight

ever westwards until the evening when it suddenly
becomes content to grow still, so still it seems
that the day has come to rest in leaves of light

the dark-haired, dark-skinned companion of light
taking away the breath of the now starry-eyed sky
song after song of beauty melting into a single light

29 november 2002
1.00 - 2.15 am

song of knowing

song born neither in the east nor in the west
but in the heart of love, infused with light

from within, like a colour that imbues a rose
with layers of depth as if it were an ocean

your mystery grows with knowing; were it not
for the air that appears purer, the earth firmer

and water as clean as a fire
that quenches the thirst of an inflamed passion

how would we know that we do not know you
enough, how would we know that your mystery

is love itself, neither rising from the ground, nor
falling from the sky, but flowering from nothing

we can ever know, unless we call each reflection
by a name we name: light, colour, rose, ocean

but the light may well be colour, the rose ocean
the ocean light and knowing your mystery

all we can ever know of you, whom we limit
by our desire to know; like the scent of a rose

fragrance has no meaning until it is inhaled; light
must drown in colour before colour becomes alive

30 november 2002
12.45 - 4.40 am

song of the truth
for mansur al hallaj

what did you say to mansur al hallaj
when he returned to you obliterated

his ashes like crushed petals plucked
from a flower and cast into a river

by an anxious lover waiting for his love
singing ecstatically as they sailed

an al haqq, an al haqq; i am the truth
i am the place where truth returns

so fatally interpreted as i am the truth
i am god by his executioners

in your generosity would you have said
to ease his endless pain, his only joy

mansur, your song has served its purpose
it was i who could no longer wait for you

and hastened your return to the truth
from the place where truth returns

my song materialized in your heart
without leaving mine; mansur al hallaj

do you understand what i am saying:
your heart and mine were always one

30 november 2002
5.00 - 5.50 pm
7.45 - 8.45 pm

song of the song

the song begins
with a
cry

the cry creates
veils of
light

the veils cover
a secret
love

love conceals both
longing and
loss

knowing loss, light
turns to
love

love removes the
veils; the
song

in the heart
bursts into
existence

its sunlit energy
fires every
seed

mesh of music
fuses the
sky

wings of rain
cool the
earth

springs of love
heal every
soul

its presence is
life; absence
death

1 december 2002 10.30 pm - 12.00 am

2 december 2002 12.00 am - 2.15 am

10.00 pm - 10.55 pm

song of justice

the song of justice waits patiently
to have its say, used to being last

leaning on its lifelong companions
compassion and forgiveness, while

love, as usual, has run on ahead
on its own, like an impetuous child

but justice, bearing the burden
of the world's waywardness

is in no hurry to bring down
the curtain on grief, the grieving

audience respecting its judgement;
when it finally arrives on the stage

it first ensures that anger is aware
of its proper place; then it begins

1 december 2002
2. 35 - 3.15 am