Favorite Spiritual Poems

[Sky Dancer]

May everyone wake up into the natural state.

May everyone wash themselves of disturbing emotions, karma, wrong views, and compulsive habits.

May every one wear the bodhisattva's attire, the transcendent disciplines.

May everyone sweep their house clean of all doubts and distractions.

May everyone have nourishing food and delight in the taste of samadhi.

May everyone have the leisure to sit and rest imperturbably.

May everyone walk on the traceless path of natural freedom.

May everyone be able to see with the vision of the way things abide.

May everyone always hear the sounds of suchness.

May everyone understand the magic of their thoughts.

May everyone act skillfully with loving kindness.

May everyone speak skillfully with loving kindness.

May everyone think skillfully with loving kindness.

Lama Drimed

 

[Sky Dancer]

Love is the scent with the lotus born.

It is the silent choirs of petals

Singing the winter’s harmony of uniform beauty.

Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.

It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets -

sun and moon lit

In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds –

Around the sovereign Silent Will.

It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays

And blush red with life.

‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth

To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots,

And to nurse all life.

It is the urge of the sun

To keep all things alive.



Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine

That took the protecting father–form,

And that feeds helpless mouths

With milk of mother’s tenderness.

It is the babies’ sweetness,

Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy

To shower upon them.

It is the lover’s unenslaved surrender to the beloved

To serve and solace.

It is the elixir of friendship,

Reviving broken and bruised souls.

It is the martyr’s zeal to shed his blood

For the well-beloved fatherland.

It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another
heart.

It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches

For every creature’s groans.



Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings,

And thence to move to spacious fields -

Passing by portals of social, national, international
sympathy,

On to the limitless Cosmic Home –

To gaze with looks of wonderment,

And to serve all that lives, still or moving.

This is to know what love is.

He knows who lives it.



Love is evolution’s ameliorative call

To the far-strayed sons

To return to Perfection’s home.

It is the call of the beauty – robed ones

To worship the great Beauty.

It is the call of God

Through silent intelligences

And starburst of feelings.



Love is the Heaven

Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms,
creatures – you and I

Are rushing by the straight path of action right,

Or winding laboriously on error’s path,

All to reach haven there at last.

yogananda

 

[Sky Dancer]

I send letters to my Beloved,
The dear Krishna.
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.
I have no peace by night or day,
My heart is fit to break.
O my Master, You were my companion
In former births.
When will you come?



- Mirabai, Hindu

 

[Mr. H.]

Dawn of light lying between a silence and sold sources,
Chased amid fusions of wonder, in moments hardly seen forgotten
Coloured in pastures of chance dancing leaves cast spells of challenge,
Amused but real in thought, we fled from the sea whole.
Dawn of thought transfered through moments of days undersearching earth
Revealing corridors of time provoking memories, disjointed but with
purpose,
Craving penetrations offer links with the self instructor's sharp
and tender love as we took to the air, a picture of distance.
Dawn of our power we amuse redescending as fast as misused
Expression, as only to teach love as to reveal passion chasing
Late into corners, and we danced from the ocean.
Dawn of love sent within us colours of awakening among the many
Won't to follow, only tunes of a different age, as the links span
Our endless caresses for the freedom of life everlasting.

 

[Sky Dancer]

I write poems, but I wouldn't dare to put them here.

 

[Mr. H.]

I write poems, but I wouldn't dare to put them here.

Aw c'mon.

Here- I just wrote this- took me 5 minutes.

It's for you.

I have worn the rags
I have wallowed in riches
Felt dirt under foot
And velvet on skin

Fallen from grace
Emblazoned with tags
Of poverty, of wealth
Back and back again

To me, myself
From thee, thyself
Taken, then given
As if akin

Yet rags nor riches
Of body or soul
Take from myself
A worldly toll

 

[Sky Dancer]

I write poems, but I wouldn't dare to put them here.

Aw c'mon.

Here- I just wrote this- took me 5 minutes.

It's for you.

I have worn the rags
I have wallowed in riches
Felt dirt under foot
And velvet on skin

Fallen from grace
Emblazoned with tags
Of poverty, of wealth
Back and back again

To me, myself
From thee, thyself
Taken, then given
As if akin

Yet rags nor riches
Of body or soul
Take from myself
A worldly toll

Nice. I wouldn't dream of posting a real poem here.

 

[Mr. H.]

That's ok. Just hit us up with some more of what you've been posting.

 

[Kalam]

If you had known this secret you would see
The link between yourselves and Majesty;
Do not reveal this truth, and God forfend
That you mistake for God Himself God’s friend.
If you become that substance I propound,
You are not God, though in God you are drowned;
Those lost in Him are not the Deity --
This problem can be argued endlessly.
You are His shadow, and cannot be moved
By thoughts of life or death once this is proved.
If He had kept His majesty concealed,
No earthly shadow would have been revealed,
And where that shadow was directly cast
The race of birds sprang up before it passed.
Your heart is not a mirror bright and clear
If there the Simorgh’s form does not appear;
No one can bear His beauty face to face,
And for this reason, of His perfect grace,
He makes a mirror in our hearts -- look there
To see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.

....

If you would glimpse the beauty we revere
Look in your heart -- its image will appear.
Make of your heart a looking-glass and see
Reflected there the Friend’s nobility;
Your sovereign’s glory will illuminate
The palace where he reigns in proper state.
Search for this king within your heart; His soul
Reveals itself in atoms of the Whole.
The multitude of forms that masquerade
Throughout the world spring from the Simorgh’s shade.
If you catch sight of His magnificence
It is His shadow that beguiles your glance;
The Simorgh’s shadow and Himself are one;
Seek them together, twinned in unison.
But you are lost in vague uncertainty …
Pass beyond shadows to Reality.
How can you reach the Simorgh’s splendid court?
First find its gateway, and the sun, long-sought,
Erupts through clouds; when victory is won,
Your sight knows nothing but the blinding sun.

- Fareed ud-Deen 'Attar, The Conference of the Birds (Mantiq ut-Tayr)

 

[Sky Dancer]

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


~ Rumi ~


(The Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)

 

[Sky Dancer]

Fear is the cheapest room in the house
I would like to see you living
In better conditions,

for your mother and my mother
Were friends.

I know the Innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight,
Come to my verse tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.

I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you
Pray
Somewhere in this world-
Something good will happen.

God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.


Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie.

Your heart and my heart
are very, very old
Friends.

- Hafiz

 

[Sky Dancer]

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

© Mary Oliver.

 

[Sky Dancer]

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

 

[Sky Dancer]

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.




Antonio Machado

 

[Sky Dancer]

Be Lost in the Call
Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you've never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?
Yet clean away the mud and straw,
and a mirror might be revealed.

Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,
it isn't wine. If you wish your heart to be bright,
you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:
You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.
This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.
He is a hat to a hundred bald men,
a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!
How could a zephyr ride an ass?
Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.
Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

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

Rumi

 

[Midnight Marauder]

One green April mornin', when I was a young boy
I lay by the window, a-watchin' the rain
And I wondered if ever the sun would come shinin'
So I could go somewhere to play

Then down from the sky flew a little brown sparrow
And he lit on the branch of an old willow tree
And he sit there, watchin', as I lay wond'rin'
Just the little brown sparrow and me

On a green April mornin', when I was a young boy
And little brown sparrows were free

Then he looked in my window and he spied his reflection
There was the willow, there was the sky
And he wondered if ever the sun would come shinin'
And which was the way for the sparrow to fly

Well, he spread out his wings and he flew to the window
Fast as the wind, sure as could be
But the sky in the window was only a wishin'
For the little brown sparrow and me

On a green April mornin', when I was a young boy
And little brown sparrows were free

So there by the window, the sparrow had fallen
He died on the ground in the cold April rain
And I wondered if ever the sun would come shinin'
And someone could only explain

Then I laid there and saw the wind blow through the willow
And cover him over with yesterday's leaves
And there in the rain, I cried for a sparrow
For a little brown sparrow and me

On a green April mornin', when I was a young boy
And little brown sparrows were free
On a green April mornin', when life was a window
For a little brown sparrow and me

 

[xsited1]

Spare a thought for the souls
Who cannot leave this earth
The attachments bind so tightly, not a chance
Not a chance of a new birth

The river gently beckons
But the answer is no
Gripping their illusions
They cannot let them go

Hunger for the flesh
Leads them to a weaker heart
Mortals who imprisoned themselves
Let them have a new start

Wishing to hold onto life and all it's games
Singing their lament song
Holding back the change

They came here for to dance
To learn and not to cling
Holding onto life
As if it were the important thing

Hunger for the flesh
Hunger for security
Caught up in the mesh
Caught up for eternity

 

[Sky Dancer]

I Have Learned So Much



I

Have

Learned

So much from God

That I can no longer

Call

Myself



A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim,

a Buddhist, a Jew.



The Truth has shared so much of Itself

With me



That I can no longer call myself

A man, a woman, an angel,

Or even a pure

Soul.



Love has

Befriended Hafiz so completely

It has turned to ash

And freed

Me



Of every concept and image

my mind has ever known.



Hafiz From: 'The Gift'

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

 

[Sky Dancer]

Tired of Speaking Sweetly



Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.



If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.



Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth



That make you fight within yourself, dear one,

And with others,



Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.



God wants to manhandle us,

Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself

And practice His dropkick.



The Beloved sometimes wants

To do us a great favor:



Hold us upside down

And shake all the nonsense out.



But when we hear

He is in such a "playful drunken mood"

Most everyone I know

Quickly packs their bags and hightails it

Out of town.



Hafiz

 

[Sky Dancer]

The Rose Within

A man planted a rose and watered it faithfully and before it blossomed, he examined it. He saw the bud that would soon blossom, but noticed thorns upon the stem and he thought, "How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns?" Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and just before it was ready to bloom... it died.

So it is with many people. Within every soul there is a rose. The God-like qualities planted in us at birth, grow amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns. We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never realize our potential.

Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone else must show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns of another, and find the rose within them.

This is what love does. It helps us to look at a person and recognize the nobility in their soul. Help others to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the 'rose' within themselves, they will conquer their thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over.

Author Unknown