Selfhood is Gabriel’s power,
If fortified by learning;
And Israfeel’s trumpet,
If fortified by love.,

I am aware of the torture
Of the inferno of modern reason,
For I was hurled into its fire,
Like Abraham the blessed.

The caravan is deluded:
It seeks a place of rest,
Though the pleasure of a journey
Is greater than that of the goal.

I do remember now
Discourses in the West;
That was the veil of logic;
This is the joy of Presence.

These secrets of Selfhood are
A sword burnished bright;
So join not my circle,
Without a keener vision.

Thou art alone, abandoned,
In the night’s darkness;
My flame—begotten song
Is for thee a beacon of light.

The Holy Land’s story
Is colourful, simple, strange;
It begins with Isma’il,
And ends with Hussain.