Logs for the Fire of Devotion Bhakti Poetry

Dedicated to the Beloved Master

Sant Kirpal Singh

Rabia

Tagore

Mirabai

Ansari of Herat

Let this be my last word, that I trust in Your love. (Rabindranath Tagore)

Rabindranath Tagore

1861-1941; India

Nobel Prize for Literature

This is the ultimate end of man, to find the One which is in him;

which is his truth, which is his soul; the key with which he opens

the gate of the spiritual life, the heavenly kingdom.

When I stand before Thee at the day's end, thou shalt see my scars

and know that I had my wounds and also my healing.

-1-

In Hindu scriptures this world is considered to be an egg. If that be true,

then this egg must have for its content a living being whose fulfillment

is to break through its shell into a freer existence.

Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favor still refused.

Day passes by after day and You are not seen. If I call You not in my prayers,

if I keep You not in my heart, Your love for me still waits for my love.

If You speak not I will fill my heart with Your silence and endure it.

I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head

bent low with patience.

The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish,

and Your voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.

-2-

I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path, when Your golden

chariot appeared in the distance like a gorgeous dream and I wondered

who was this King of all kings!

My hopes rose high and I thought my evil days were at an end,

and I stood waiting for alms to be given unasked and for wealth

scattered on all sides in the dust.

The chariot stopped where I stood. Your glance fell on me and You came down

with a smile. I felt that the luck of my life had come at last. Then of a sudden

You did hold out Your right hand and say, "What have you to give to me?"

Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open Your palm to a beggar to beg!

I was confused and stood undecided, and then from my wallet I slowly took out

the least little grain of corn and gave it to You.

But how great my surprise when at the day's end I emptied my bag on the floor

to find a least little grain of gold among the poor heap.

I bitterly wept and wished that I had had the heart to give You my all.

He came and sat by my side but I woke not. What a cursed sleep it was,

O miserable me! He came when the night was still; He had His harp in His

hands, and my dreams became resonant with its melodies. Alas, why are my

nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss His sight whose breath

touches my sleep?

Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens. Ah, love, why do You let me wait

outside at the door all alone? In the busy moments of the noontide work I am

with the crowd, but on this dark lonely day it is only for You that I hope.

If You show me not Your face, if You leave me wholly aside,

I know not how I am to pass these long, rainy hours.

I keep gazing on the far away gloom of the sky,

and my heart wanders wailing with the restless wind.

-3-

When I go from here let this be my parting word,

that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus that expands on the

Ocean of Light, and thus am I blessed – let this be my parting word.

In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play and here have I caught

sight of Him that is formless. My whole body and my limbs have thrilled

with His touch who is beyond touch; and if the end comes here, let it come –

let this be my parting word.

You have taken me as Your partner of all this wealth. In my heart is the endless

play of Your delight. In my life Your Will is ever taking shape. And for this,

You who are the King of kings have decked Yourself in beauty

to captivate my heart.

-4-

The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;

only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.

The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.

I have not seen His face, nor have I listened to His voice;

only I have heard His gentle footsteps from the road before my house.

The livelong day has passed in spreading His seat on the floor;

but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask Him into my house.

I live in the hope of meeting with Him; but this meeting is not yet.

I know not from what distant time You are ever coming nearer to meet me.

Your sun and stars can never keep You hidden from me forever.

In many a morning and eve Your footsteps have been heard

and Your messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

I know not why today my life is all astir,

and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

It is as if the time were come to wind up my work,

and I feel in the air a faint smell of Your sweet presence.

I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out on the

darkness. I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies Your Path!

By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning

forest, through what mazy depth of gloom are You threading Your course

to come to me, my friend?

-5-

This is my delight, thus to wait and watch where shadow chases light and the

rain comes in the wake of the summer. Messengers with tidings from unknown

skies great me and speed along the road. My heart is glad within,

and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.

From dawn till dusk I sit here before Your door,

and I know that of a sudden the happy moment will arrive when I will see You.

In the meanwhile I smile and I sing all alone.

In the meantime the air is filling with the sweet perfume of promise.

That I want You, only You - let my heart repeat without end.

All desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty to the core.

As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, even thus in the

depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry - I want You, only You.

As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against peace with all its

might, even thus my rebellion strikes against Your love and still its cry is -

I want You, only You.

These my lamps are blown out at every little puff of wind, and trying to light

them I forget all else again and again. But I will be wise this time and wait in

the dark, spreading my mat on the floor; and whenever it is Your pleasure,

my Master, come silently and take Your seat here.

I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the

silent dark? I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not. He makes

the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud voice to every

word that I utter. He is my own little self, my Lord, he knows no shame;

but I am ashamed to come to Your door in his company.

-6-

Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them.

Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.

I am certain that priceless wealth is in You, and that You are my best friend,

but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room.

The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death;

I hate it, yet hug it in love.

My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy;

yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.

Light, Oh where is the Light? Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!

There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame - is such my fate, my heart?

Ah, death were better by far for me!

Misery knocks at my door, and her message is that my Lord is wakeful,

and He calls me to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.

The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless.

I know not what this is that stirs in me - I know not its meaning.

A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my sight,

and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the night calls me.

Light, Oh where is the Light! Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!

It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the void.

The night is black as a black stone. Let not the hours pass by in the dark.

Kindle the lamp of love with your life.

I know You as my God and stand apart - I do not know You as my own

and come closer. I know You as my father and bow before Your feet -

I do not grasp Your hand as my friend.

-7-

The night is nearly spent waiting for Him in vain. I fear lest in the morning

He suddenly come to my door when I have fallen asleep wearied out.

Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for His touch to vanish.

Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the Light of His smile

when He stands before me like a dream emerging from darkness of sleep.

Let Him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all forms.

The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from His glance.

And let my return to myself be immediate return to Him.

If it is not my portion to meet You in this my life then let me ever feel that I have

missed Your sight – let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of

this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.

As my days pass in the crowded market of this world and my hands grow full

with the daily profits, let me ever feel that I have gained nothing – let me not

forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams

and in my wakeful hours.

When I sit by the roadside, tired and panting, when I spread my bed low in the

dust, let me ever feel that the long journey is still before me – let me not forget

for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams

and in my wakeful hours.

When my rooms have been decked out and the flutes sound and the laughter

there is loud, let me ever feel that I have not invited You to my house – let me

not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams

and in my wakeful hours.

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost,

my Master. You have taken every moment of my life in Your own hands.

Hidden in the heart of things You are nourishing seeds into sprouts,

buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.

-8-

I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, O my sun

ever-glorious! Your touch has not yet melted my vapor, making me one with

Your Light, and thus I count months and years separated from You.

Time is endless in Your hands, my Lord. There is none to count Your minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.

You know how to wait.

Your centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for our chances.

We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous man

who claims it, and Your altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest Your gate be shut;

but I find that yet there is time.

Master, I shall weave a chain of pearls for Your neck with my tears of sorrow.

The stars have formed their anklets of light to deck Your feet,

but mine will hang upon Your breast.

Spiritual delights comes from You

and it is for You to give or to withhold them.

But this my sorrow is absolutely my own,

and when I bring it to You as my offering You reward me with Your Grace.

He it is, the Innermost One, who awakens my being with His deep hidden

touches. He it is who puts His enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays

on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.

He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of gold and silver,

blue and green, and lets peep out through the folds His feet,

at whose touch I forget myself.

Days come and ages pass, and it is ever He who moves my heart in many

a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.

-9-

I boasted among men that I had known you. They see Your pictures in all works

of mine. They come and ask me, “Who is he?” I know not how to answer them.

I say, “Indeed, I cannot tell.”

They blame me and they go away in scorn.

And you sit there smiling.

I put my tales of You into lasting songs. The secret gushes out from my heart.

They come and ask me, “Tell me all your meanings.” I know not how to answer

them. I say, “Ah, who knows what they mean!”

They smile and go away in utter scorn.

And you sit there smiling.

-10-

On the day when death will knock at your door what will you offer to him?

Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life - I will never let him go

with empty hands. All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer

nights, all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place before him

at the close of my days when death will knock at my door.

Death, Your servant, is at my door. He has crossed the unknown sea and

brought Your call to my home. The night is dark and my heart is fearful - yet I

will take up the lamp, open my gates and bow to him my welcome.

It is Your messenger who stands at my door.

Oh, the last fulfillment of life, Death, my death, come and whisper to me!

Day after day I have kept watch for you; for you have I borne

the joys and pangs of life.

All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever flowed towards

you in depth of secrecy. One final glance from your eyes

and my life will be ever your own.

The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the bridegroom.

After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and meet her Lord

alone in the solitude of night.

I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall be lost,

and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last curtain over my eyes.

Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before,

and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.

When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments breaks

and I see by the light of death your world with its careless treasures.

Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.

Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got - let them pass.

Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned and overlooked.

-11-

I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take

my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door - and I give up all claims

to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you.

We were neighbors for long, but I received more than I could give.

Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out.

A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.

At this time of my parting, wish me good luck, my friends! The sky is flushed

with the dawn and my path lies beautiful. Ask not what I have with me to take

there. I start on my journey with empty hands and expectant heart.

I shall put on my wedding garland. Mine is not the red-brown dress of the

traveler, and though there are dangers on the way I have no fear in mind.

The evening star will come out when my voyage is done and the plaintive notes

of the twilight melodies be struck up from the King's gateway.

I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of this life.

What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a bud in

the forest at midnight!

When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I was no

stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and form had taken me

in its arms in the form of my own mother.

Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me.

And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.

The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away,

in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.

Mirabai

1498-1550, India

O Master, I have heard that You save sinners, and rescue them from

the miseries of worldly existence. You remove the afflictions of Your

devotees and remove the sufferings of the afflicted. Says Mira:

My Lord, You know my request. Why delay any further?

-1-

O Master, what kind of love has been awakened in me?

I am blessed with both the bliss of meeting You and the pain of Your separation.

My friend, He looked, and our eyes met; an arrow came in.

My chest opened; what could it do? His image moved inside.

I’ve been standing all morning in the door of my house, looking down the road.

The One I love is an herb growing in secret places, an herb that heals all wounds.

Irene & Master Kirpal Singh - Florida, 1972

O Master, what kind of love is this? The pain of separation has not left me,

but still the happiness of Your memory is incessant.

What kind of love has been awakened in me?

-2-

O my companion, the Beloved shot an arrow that has pierced me through.

The fire of longing is burning in my heart and my whole body is in torment.

My roving mind cannot stir, fettered in the chains of love.

My Beloved threw me a glance like a dagger today. Since that moment,

I am insane; I can’t find my body. The pain has gone through my arms and legs,

and I can’t find my mind.

O Master, what kind of love is this? I am suffering from the pain of separation,

yet I am so ecstatic. I am ecstatic and miserable at the same time.

O Master, what kind of love is this? My body is burning with the fire of love.

My eyes are glowing with the light of love. It seems that all the sins and

sorrows and cravings of my life have been used as fuel for the fire of this love.

Come to meet me, my Magnificent One, I have fallen in love with Thy

beauteous form. Enquire my name. I am known as she

whom absence drove to madness.

I feel restless all the day and get no sleep at night. By constant waiting and

watching I have grown lean like a thorn. The arrows of love have pierced

my heart and I cannot for even a moment forget the love pangs.

To love the Master, O sister, is to love only sorrow. He murmurs sweet words

while He’s with you, then forgets and departs. Mira says to her Lord, bring back

Your beauty. When I can’t see You, that absence knifes open my heart.

-3-

I pray to meet Thee Beloved, when will Thou meet Thy humble maid, Mira?

As the dawn in beauty breaks, I move out, every day, to seek Thee!

Ages have I spent in quest of Thee, Beloved!

Another night wasted. Years pass and not one sign.

Mira is a slave to her Lord, her life one long night of craving.

I am mad with love and no one understands my plight. Only the wounded

understand the agonies of the wounded when the fire rages in the heart.

Only the jeweler knows the value of the jewel, not the one who lets it go.

I send letters to my Beloved, but He sends no message of reply, purposely

preserving silence. I sweep His path in readiness and gaze and gaze

till my eyes turn blood-shot.

O friend, I sit alone while the world sleeps. In the palace that held love’s

pleasure the abandoned one sits. She who once threaded a necklace of pearls is

now stringing tears. He has left me. The night passes while I count stars.

When will the hour arrive? This sorrow must end. Mira says:

My Beloved Lord, please return.

What I have now is separation. It hurts through the night and through the day.

I am sad every moment of the day. Mirabai says: O God, You keep stealing

away. You know once lovers come together, they should not be kept apart.

I remember how my mother would hold me. I would look up at her sometimes

and see her weep. I understand now what was happening. Love so strong a

force it broke the cage, and she disappeared from everything

for a blessed moment.

-4-

You have set the boat of love in motion and abandoned it on the ocean of

longing. My Master, when can I meet You? Without You, I cannot survive.

O Master, I know Your ways of love, know them well.

Mine is the Path of Love and Devotion, I know no other.

Why, having first plied me with nectar, do You serve me with poison now?

My Master, You have inspired me with love, where have You now gone?

You have abandoned me, Your faithful companion, having lit the flame of love.

O Master, why have You become angry with me? Recount some of my faults,

I am eager to hear. I have been Your slave for many births

and You are my beloved Master.

Take my arm immediately, if only to preserve Your own reputation. O Master,

they call You the Refuge of the Afflicted. You have promised to save the fallen.

I am plunged in the ocean of transmigration without a support. Without You,

I shall suffer a mighty disaster. You save Your devotees from their afflictions in

every age, appearing before them to grant them release. Mira has taken refuge

with You, and is grasping Your feet. Redeem Your pledge, O Master.

To fall in love with a Master is to court pain. I loved, but it has brought me no

joy. The Master befriends no one. Until I meet You again,

I shall have no rest, day or night.

You are the savior of the world and the remover of all afflictions.

I place my ruined life in the shadow of Your protection.

-5-

In my travels I spent time with a great yogi. Once he said to me,

“Become so still you hear the blood flowing through your veins.”

One night as I sat in quiet, I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside

so vast I know it is the source of all of us.

All actions have evolved from the taste of flight; the hope of freedom moves our

cells and limbs. Unable to live on the earth, Mira ventured out alone in the sky;

I write of that journey of becoming as free as God.

My Beloved has come, every limb in my body throbs with joy.

The Beloved has come to my house. After many an age of expectation,

the abandoned one has found her Lover.

-6-

I do not care about social norms nor do I keep my family's honor.

I cannot forget, even for a moment, the beauty of my Lover.

I am dyed in God's color.

I go to the house of my one true Lover. When I see His beauty, I only crave

Him more. At dusk I go to Him, at dawn I return. Whatever His pleasure,

day and night I am His.

The clothes He gives me, I wear. The food He offers, I eat.

Where He wants me to be, I stay. If He wants to sell me, I want to be sold.

Mira says, my love for the Beloved has lasted through many rebirths,

without Him I scarcely breathe. She offers herself to Him in all of her lives.

In all my lives You have been with me; whether day or night I remember.

When You fall out of my sight, I am restless day and night, burning. I climb

hilltops; I watch for signs of Your return; my eyes are swollen with tears. The

ocean of life - that’s not genuine; the ties of family, the obligations to the world

- they’re not genuine. It is Your beauty that makes me drunk.

-7-

Once they are fixed upon the Master my thirsty eyes do not waver.

They drink in every atom of His body, ranging with anxious longing

from head to toe.

My Master, the love that binds us cannot be broken. It is hard as the diamond

that shatters the hammer that strikes it. As polish goes into the gold, my heart

has gone into You. As a lotus lives in its water, I am rooted in You. Like the

bird that gazes all night at the passing moon, I have blinded myself

in giving my eyes to Your beauty.

Friends, let those whose Beloved is absent write letters - mine dwells in the

heart, and neither enters nor leaves. Mira has given herself to her Lord.

Day or night, she waits only for Him.

I have felt the swaying of the elephant’s shoulders;

and now you want me to climb on a jackass?

-8-

Never again in this world have I beheld beauty like Yours.

Mira says: My Lord, when shall we meet?

Great will be the joy of that meeting.

Do not lose hold of such a gracious Master!

Offer your body, mind and wealth to Him alone.

Cherish His image in your heart. Come, my companion,

look at His face, drink in the beauty with your eyes.

Act only to please Him, in every way.

My love is for that Ocean of Love, the Beloved. His love has entrapped my eyes.

Says Mira: He is joy abundant, I have enthroned Him on my brow.

-9-

O my dear companion, now that I have seen the Lord, all my desires are fulfilled

and my sufferings forgotten. My Master, the Ocean of Joy, Mira’s Lord,

has entered her home.

Friend, listen: this love doesn’t come or go. One sip from the cup of that

sweetness, the world starts to spin. Now I’m drunk for life - unsoberable.

I’m associated now with the King’s court; it must have been some work in a

previous life. My time of good luck is come; the ocean that stores jewels

is nearby.

I offer a thousand thanks to the astrologer who predicted my Beloved would

come. My joy is overflowing, my soul has access to an incalculable

storehouse of joy!

With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;

now the creeper has grown and spread all over and born the fruit of bliss.

The dagger of love has pierced my heart. My Master has bound me by the

thin thread of love, and wherever He draws me, there I go.

-10-

The Path to Your Dwelling

How am I to come to you,

When I stand outside a locked gate?

The path to your dwelling

Runs steep and dangerous.

In fear I climb, step by step,

The path to your dwelling,

So steep and dangerous.

O Lord, you seem so far away

That my mind goes up and down.

As I climb, the sentinels watch

And the robbers wait to waylay me.

Though the path to your dwelling

Is steep and dangerous,

You have called me home.

Mira's wanderings are ended.

She has found her way to your feet.

Come, Beloved

As the lotus dies without water,

As the night is blind without the moon,

So is my heart without you, Beloved.

I wander alone at night,

Driven by my longing for you.

I hunger for you all the day,

I thirst for you all the night.

My grief is beyond words

My mind is beyond rest.

Come and end my grief, Beloved.

Come and bring joy to my heart.

You know my inmost secret;

Then look at me with eyes of love,

Your slave for countless lives

since the dawn of time.

So says Mira at your feet.

-11-

Life of My Life

You are the life of my life,

O Master, the heart of my heart.

There is none in all the three worlds

Whom I call my own but you.

You are the peace of my mind;

You are the joy of my heart;

You are my beauty and my wealth.

You are my wisdom and my strength;

I call you my home, my friend, my kin.

My present and future are in your hands;

My scriptures and commands come from you.

Supreme teacher, fountain of wisdom,

You are the path and the goal,

Tender mother and stern father too.

You are the creator and protector,

And the pilot who takes me across

The stormy ocean of life.

Ansari of Herat

1006-1088, Afghanistan

O Lord, give me that right discrimination

that the lure of the world may cheat me no more.

-1-

Few are the wise ones who turn the heart away from worldly objects

and spend their time in gathering riches for the life beyond

before departure from this lonely earth.

O Lord, give me that right discrimination

that the lure of the world may cheat me no more.

Urged by desire, I wandered in the streets of good and evil.

I gained nothing except feeding the fire of desire.

As long as in me remains the breath of life, help me,

for Thou alone can hear my prayer.

O Lord, give me understanding that I stray not from the Path.

Give me Light to avoid pitfalls. O Lord, keep watch over me that I stray not.

Keep me on the path of righteousness that I escape from

the pangs of repentance.

O Lord, other men are afraid of You, but I – I am afraid of myself.

From You flows good alone, from me flows evil. Others fear what tomorrow

may bring; I am afraid of what happened yesterday. If You hold me responsible

for my sins I will cling to You for Your grace. I with my sin am an insignificant

atom. Your Grace is resplendent as the sun.

O Lord! I have squandered my life, wounded my soul, done everything in my

power to delight the Evil One. Whether I go on living or not does not matter.

Accept my repentance, forgive my sins, take me from misery to joy.

If words can establish a claim, I claim a crown.

But if deeds are wanted, I am as helpless as an ant.

-2-

My Lord, I have no key to open doors, nor the power for forgiveness;

O Peerless One, our Creator, what harm if You hear the cry of this afflicted one?

Without Your will creation would not be. Without Your guidance we would be

powerless. If you overlook what I have done or where I have failed,

I would gain everything, and You lose nothing!

O Lord, I come to You as a slave, on my lips repentance, on my tongue the

appeal for forgiveness. If you wish, You bless me. If not, I am forlorn.

I am full of shame. You are the Lord all-powerful!

Please grant me a vision of Your beautiful form. The spark You have kindled,

make it everlasting. I think of no other and in Your Love care for none else.

None has a place in my heart but You. My heart has become Your abode;

It has no place for another.

-3-

O Lord, I, a beggar, ask of You more than what a thousand kings

may ask of You. Each one has something he needs to ask of You;

I have come to ask You to give me Yourself.

God travels with whoever looks for Him, and having taken the seeker

by the hand, He arouses him to go in search of himself.

God’s favor comes unexpectedly, but only to an alert heart.

Put not your hope in people, for you will be wounded.

Put your hope in God that you may be delivered.

O Lord, to find You is my desire, but to comprehend You is beyond my strength.

Remembering You is solace to my sorrowing heart; thoughts of You are my

constant companions. I call upon You night and day. The flame of Your Love

glows in the darkness of my night.

O Lord, intoxicate me with the wine of Your love. Place the chains of Your

slavery on my feet; make me empty of all but Your Love, and in it destroy me

and bring me back to life. The hunger You have awakened

culminates in fulfillment.

-4-

Be humble and cultivate silence. If you have received, rejoice

and fill yourself with ecstasy. And if not, continue the demand.

Can you walk on water? You have done no better than a straw.

Can you soar in the air? You have done no better than a fly.

Conquer your heart; then you may become somebody.

Lord, send me staggering with the wine of Your love. Ring my feet with the

chains of Your slavery. Empty me of everything but Your love and in it destroy

and resurrect me. Any hunger You awaken can only end in a Feast!

Life in my body pulses only for You. My heart beats in resignation to Your will.

If on my grave a clump of grass where to grow, every blade of it would tremble

with my passion for You.

He knows all our good and all our evil. Nothing is, or can be, hidden from Him.

He knows too what the best medicine is to cure our pain and rescue

the destroyed. Be humble, for He exalts the humble.

The one You kill, Lord, does not smell of blood, and the one You burn does not

reek of smoke. He you burn laughs as he burns and the one You kill,

as You kill him, cries out in ecstasy.

O Lord, may my mind reel with revelations of You. May my heart blaze with

the mysteries of Your grace. May my tongue move only to sing Your praise.

-5-

Fasting is a way to save on food. Vigil and prayer is a labor for old folks.

Pilgrimage is an occasion for tourism. To distribute bread in alms is something

for philanthropists. Fall in love: that is doing something!

He who knows three things is saved from three things:

Who knows that the Creator made no mistakes at creation is saved from petty

fault finding. Who knows that He made no favoritism in allotting fortune is

saved from jealousy. Who knows of what he is created is saved from pride.

O Lord, give me a heart I can pour out in thanksgiving.

Give me life so I can spend it working for the salvation of the world.

Rabia Basri

717 – 801, Iraq

May God steal from you all that steals you from Him.

-1-

O God, the stars are shining, all eyes have closed in sleep; the kings have locked

their doors. Each lover is alone, in secret, with the one he loves.

And I am here too: alone, hidden from all of them – with You.

O God, another night is passing away, another day is rising. Tell me that I have

spent the night well so I can be at peace, or that I have wasted it, so I can mourn

for what is lost. I swear that ever since the first day You brought me back to life,

the day You became my Friend, I have not slept – and even if you drive me from

Your door, I swear again that we will never be separated,

because you are alive in my heart.

Your hope in my heart is the rarest treasure. Your Name on my tongue is the

sweetest word. My choicest hours are the hours I spend with You.

O Master, I can’t live in this world without remembering You. How can I

endure the next world without seeing Your face? I am a stranger in Your

country and lonely among Your worshippers: this is the substance

of my complaint.

Brethren, my rest is in my solitude, and my Beloved is ever in my presence.

Nothing for me will do but love of Him; by love of Him I am tested in this world.

Wherever I am I contemplate His beauty. O Thou, ever my joy, my life, from

Thee is my existence and my ecstasy. From all creation I have turned away,

for union with Thee my desired end.

The source of my grief and loneliness is deep in my breast.

This is a disease no doctor can cure. Only union with the Friend can cure it.

-2-

You have infused my being through and through, as an intimate friend must

always do. So when I speak, I speak of only You, and when silent,

I yearn for You.

Two loves I give Thee: Love that yearns and Love because Thy due is Love.

In my yearning my remembrance turns to Thee, nor lets it from Thee rove.

Thou hast Thy due whenever it pleases Thee to lift the veils for me to see Thee.

Praise is not mine in this, nor yet in that, but Thine in this and that.

O Lord, if I worship You because of fear of hell then burn me in hell.

If I worship You because I desire paradise then exclude me from paradise.

But if I worship You for Yourself alone then deny me not

Your eternal beauty.

How numerous Your favors bestowed upon me, favors of gifts and grace

and assistance. Your love is now my only desire and my ultimate bliss.

-3-

Your prayers were light and your worship peaceful, your sleep an enemy of

prayer. Your life was a test, but you let it go by without a thought.

It’s ever-passing, slowly vanishes before you know it.

Your prayers are your light; your devotion is your strength; sleep is the enemy

of both. Your life is the only opportunity that life can give you. If you ignore it,

if you waste it, you will only turn into dust.

He is sweet that way, trying to coax the world to dance. Look how the wind

holds the trees in its hands helping them to sway. Look how the sky takes the

fields and the oceans and our bodies in its arms, and moves all beings

toward His lips. God must get hungry for us; why is He not also

a lover who wants His lovers near. Beauty is my teacher

helping me to know He cares for me.

Sometimes I take my dog for a walk and turn her loose in a field.

When I can’t give her that freedom I feel in debt. I hope God thinks like that

and is keeping track of all the bliss He owes me!

I am fully qualified to work as a doorkeeper for this reason:

What is inside me, I don’t let out; what is outside me, I don’t let in.

If someone comes in, he goes right out again. He has nothing to do with me at

all. I am a Doorkeeper of the Heart, not a lump of wet clay.

-4-

Rabia was once asked, “How did you attain that which you have attained?”

“By often praying, ‘I take refuge in You, O God, from everything that distracts

me from You, and from every obstacle that prevents me from reaching You.’ ”

Without You – O my life, my love – I would never have wandered across these

endless countries. How many gifts and graces You have given me! How many

favors You have fed me from Your hand! I look for Your love in all directions

then, suddenly, its blessing burns in me. O Captain of my heart – Radiant Eye

of longing in my breast – I will never be free of You as long as I live. Only be

satisfied with me, life of my heart, and I am satisfied.

On one occasion, Rabia sent three things to Hasan: a piece of wax, a needle, and

a hair. “Light up the world,” she told him, “although like wax you burn yourself.

And, like a needle, be always busy in spiritual work, while outwardly barren.

When you acquire these virtues, make your ego thin as a hair,

so all your efforts are not wasted.”

-5-

Hasan of Basra was given to extreme ascetic practices. Through these, he won

certain occult powers which he took great pride in flaunting. One day he saw

Rabia on the bank of the river. He threw his prayer rug onto the water and

shouted to her, “Rabia, come! Let’s pray together!” Rabia replied, “Is it really

necessary for you to sell yourself like this? If it is, it is because you are weak.”

Then, Rabia ascended into the air on her prayer rug and called down, “Hasan,

come up here! Everyone will see us!” Hasan, who was not as advanced as she,

stayed silent. Rabia said to him, “What you did a fish can do. What I did a fly

can do. The real work is beyond either of our tricks. The only thing necessary

is to do the real work.”

One day Rabia was sick, and so her holy friends came to visit her, sat by her

bedside, and began complaining about the world. “You must be pretty interested

in this world,” said Rabia, “otherwise you wouldn’t talk about it so much.

Whoever breaks the merchandise has to have bought it first.”

“I am the murderer of joy, the widower of wives, the orphaner of children”

said the Angel of Death. “Why always run yourself down?” said Rabia.

“Why not say instead, ‘I am he who brings friend and Friend together?’ ”

-6-

During her last illness, the great saint Rabia was visited by three of her friends,

and they endeavored to discuss the duty of resignation.

The first friend said, “He is not sincere in his claim to be a true servant of God

who is not patient under the chastisement of his Lord.”

“I smell egotism in this speech,” remarked Rabia.

“He is not sincere in his claim to be a true servant of God who is not thankful for

the chastisement of his Lord,” improved the second friend.

“Something better than this is needed,” remarked Rabia.

Then the third friend tried, “He is not sincere in his claim to be a true servant

of God who does not delight in the chastisement of his Lord.”

“Even this is not good enough,” observed Rabia.

They then said, “Please tell us what is the test of resignation

to the will of the Lord.”

“He is not sincere in his claim who does not entirely forget the chastisement in

his contemplation on his Lord,” explained Rabia.

On one occasion a Sufi said to Rabia when she was ill, "If you would utter a

prayer, God would relieve your suffering."

She turned her face to him and said, "O Sufyan, do you not know who it is that

wills this suffering for me? Is it not God who wills it?"

"Yes", he replied. "When you know this, why do you ask for what is contrary to

His will? It is not well to oppose one's beloved," replied Rabia.

-7-

The Compassion of Rabia Told by Sant Kirpal Singh

You may remember the life of Rabia Basri. One day she was accompanying

some others on a pilgrimage, and they stopped at a well to drink and gather

water for their journey. When they had finished, had packed away the rope, and

were on their way again, Rabia noticed a dog by the roadside who was nearly

dying of thirst. She mentioned this to her companions, but they refused to stop

and help the dog.

Rabia herself went back to the well. The others had taken the rope, so she took

her clothes and tied them together; but they did not reach the water in the well.

She tore out her hair and tied this on the end, and she was thereby able to wet

the clothes and take them back to the dog who gratefully drank the water she

wrung from them. As she tended the dog, she heard the voice of the Lord saying,

"Rabia, your pilgrimage has been accepted."

He for whom we pilgrimage and He for whom we search resides in each and

every being. Do we expect to be accepted when we ignore Him?

Kirpalct@yahoo.com

For more booklets go to: kirpalsingh.org

Spiritual Quotations for Lovers of God