The Opening

Play the guitar,
Play the flute,
Play the piano,
Or,
Play the hobo.
O, it doesn’t matter,
Whatever you like,
O, play on.
O, just play as long as your Praising is in Praise
Of the Being that is You.
The You that Says
‘I am Found in the Bismillahi
Of the Freeing Near,’
That Timing Time who brought the Hand
Bearing pen full of Ink and Intention,
Drawing you Near,
For the sake of Revealing You, Dear,
Saying that I Found You
‘In the Name‘
When the Naming Said
‘Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.‘

Did you not know?
It is the Beneficent
Because there is No-Thing whatsoever
That does not draw it’s benefit from it,
Verily it is under this Name
That the whole Creation came to Be,
Both Existence and Non-Exisistence,
That means you,
Taqwacore,
The Apple of the Eye.
And isn’t it true
That it is through this Eye
That the Mercy,
The All Merciful Breath
Pours out the Life Giving Covenant
With the Creation?

O, Taqwacore,
It said ‘All praise is due to Allah,
The Lord of the worlds.’
This is the Pronouncement of the Title,
The Affirmation of the Creation
Breathing the Life Giving Force of The Praise,
The Celebration.
This is what is Known,
That the Beneficent, and the Merciful
Are Present at the Time of The Wake,
Hey, it is they who are the very Wakefulness
Of the Waking who are Hailing
From the Presence of Praise
Saying in their Gaze
‘Master of the Day of Requital.’
That is there is no Blemish,
No Stain on the Created Being,
For it is Perfect in the Name Of.
Holding, for it is the Saving Grace
That Nature’s own Covenant Calls to Be in
‘Thee do we serve and Thee do we beseech for help.’
The help that comes from the Merciful Breath,
Bringing to be Known that
‘All praise is due to Allah’
In the Name that Beseeched,
Calling out ‘Guide us on the path’
O, Taqwacore,
This is the Path that Calling Grace
Came to Offer You at the Moving Ways,
When with your guitar,
Or your drums,
You bang the Glorifying Need
That told you that
You are Divine to the Core,
This is the Core that is
‘The path of those on whom Thou hast bestowed favours.’
A Favour that is already yours,
Yours when your
Taqwcore heart
Knew that there is non like unto Him.

O, do you remember?
When from the Depth, the Outcry
Came from your Need that Said
‘Not those upon whom wrath is brought down,
nor those who go astray.’
For we Know that Thou art
‘Qul huwa-llahu Ahad
Allahu -s-Samad
Lam yalid wa Lam yulad
Wa lam yuku-llahu kufuwan ahad.’

The Niche

The Niche

Heavens they say, is the Dwelling Place
Of Light that Pours
Out the Merciful Breath
In the Hour of “Allah is the
Light of the Heavens and the Earth.”
At that Moment in the Presence,
The Divine Core Rose
With the Secret Life on Her Cheek
Calling out to the
Taqwacores.

The meaning, Unity Glimpse
At the Turning Curls of Non Existence,
Making it known that Eternal Life is found
In the Blackness of those Curls.
The Curls are the Mysteries Containing
The Seven Verses full of Lustre and
Hidden Pearls.
They are hidden in the Down of
Her Thousand Ways.
You will find that,
“The similitude of His Light
Is as if there were a Niche.”

There, in Meadows
Leading to that Multitudes’ Ways
You will find them,
Taqwacores,
At play with
“O Ornament of My Soul,
You are the Waters
That those Seven Verses
Reveal Containing the Ocean
Full of Song
And the Throne of Lovers
In the Mansions of Presence,
From the Laughter of
“And within it a Lamp”
That those Play Hands Hold
To Reveal
The Hidden Treasure
That Pre-Existence
Bore out to Pre-Eternity
To be Foretold by Non-Existence
At the time when the Turning Gaze says
“‘I am the Beauty of
Your Looking at the Crosswalk’
The lamp enclosed in a glass.”

As the Reflecting Symbol of the Age of Tawhid
Found at the Panting House
Breathlessly Adoring in
“The Glass as it
Were a Glittering Star.”

This, the Star that
Taqwacore
Wore when the Ink of Elementary Nature
Flows out to meet the
Tablet of Becoming More
In the Storehouse Hidden Joy
Which is “Lit from a Blessed Tree.”

That is the Mother who Brought Forth
The Fruits of Her Labor
In the Roaring Light
Go Intoxicated Lovers
Born from the Bewitching Beauty
That Inner Knowledge Brings from
“An Olive Tree,
Neither of the East or of the West”
But from the Place of No-Where
To the Act of Everywhere,
Where the Hand That Wrote
Brought the Staff of
“Whose Oil is Nigh Luminous”
Showing that in the Fire of
Purifying Body and Soul,
Hearts Sing to the the Two Steps Dance
With the Friend where
Need Containing Alloy
Finds Gold even “Though no Fire
Touches it.”
It is the “Light upon Light”
That the
Taqwacores
Signal as if From the Flame
Fumed by the Breath of
“Allah Guides to
His Light Whom He Will”
To the tune of
“And Allah Strikes Similitudes for Men,
and Allah has Knowledge of
Everything.”

The Nest

Nested in the Abode of Never-Ending Happiness,
In the Resting Place of
Coming to the Place of No Existence,
They had
No Form.
Beginning from End to Start,
They are the Limitless Ending Mirage,
Calling out from a Place of Nowhere.

Some have called them Infidels,
Others have called them the Faithful,
But if you ask me,
I will say they are the
Taqwacores.

You will not find them in a Feverishly
Wondering State of
Without Glory of
Divine Wake moving in their veins from
Heart to Heart,
Becoming Headlessly Praying and
Footlessly Singing the
Praising Allahu Akbar.

Look among them there,
You will find
No Good or Evil,
In fact, there is no
Pronouncement from them that carries
This Molten Plastic Waste.

No, instead,
They are drunk with the Fruitless
Yearning of Renunciation’s Drinking Cup,
For the Naming of the Name,
They call out to the Self Naming Self.

So cast away the staring eyes that
Stubborn Heart calls you to bare
At the crossroad of Saving Grace.
I am found dumb struck
At the sight of this
Tradition Obliterating Saving Tradition.
If this is your state,
Close your eyes
And open them again.
You find them
Beyond the Tradition of Traditions.

You can call them Castaways,
What does it matter?
From their lips
There are no names that could be found
To come from the mirage of their
Existence worthy of saying
Taqwacore.

So they made themselves to appear as
The Name.

What?
Did you forget?
Did you remember that they are
The Heart that the Sweetheart Marvels
Over in the Courtyard of
Merciful Breath?

They are at the Place where you said
Yes.
That Place where the faces say
Before they are born.
That place called Forever More.

Look there-
How did you find them there at
The crossroad of the Soul of Adam?
You know, those who are
Circumambulating the Circumference
“His eyes say Yea,
‘In the heaven of
Your glance brought me to the tower of
I am the drop in the
Apple of the Eye.'”
It is the Mystic Bound of
Calling Cards,
The Rig Element,
Seen descending from their Heaven
To your Earth
And your Earth
To their Heaven
Making it all come to be known as
“This is the unseen World of Beauty that
Moulding Nature Gave.”

Call them what you like,
It doesn’t matter,
They are the
Taqwacores.

With Sweetheart of their Daily Bread,
It is the Mystic-Ship
On it’s way to the
Bewitching Hidden Joy.

You, yes You,
Come along with them to the
Enamored City of Rightful Balance.

Why are you protesting?
And what is this strange language that you speak
At this Place of Moving Rays?

O, Fair Child of Beauty,
It is for your sake that the Taqwacores
Entered the Tavern of Lovers,
The place where
Soulful Birds Nest.

Look now,
When you enter into the
Rest House of No Existence,
Following the Lovers of the Abode,
the Taqwacores.

You will find that
No Form
Is the Limit of the Limitless Wonderers.
They are Feverishly Beginning
And Ending in Endlessly Becoming.

Sometimes they could be found in the
Desert of Rays
Dancing in the Mirage,
Forsaking the Habit of Yesterday
Gone by while
Being the Headless Footless Dwellers
In the Light upon Light.