Shaykh Fadhlalla Haeri

Quarrelsome Sparrows

Rise and dive

In defense and offense.

A life filled with interaction,
Fulfilling a Divine program

Of procreation, self protection.

supplying adoration and submission

Yet in constant action.

River of Return

Another season flown away
New smells and colors

Remind you of the river of fast return.

New homes,
Young noisy ones
And ancient grandmothers

Shriveling after many years.

yesterday’s child
Too old now
Blown by the sand of time
On an endless golden beach,
Fast and slow

At high tide and low.

Searching for stillness and peace
When day dissolves into the deep sleep
And silence claims the bird’s song
And millions of bridges frozen still
For the cosmic camera to record the truth
Of moments, of change

All for the glory of the Master of time and change.


We have to return
To our home,
Free of time and space
Away from constant change,
Life’s dash
And the permanent race
With glitter,

Sparkle and glow.

To yield and accept
Life’s ebb and flow
The heart must rest,
At peace
Beyond the cosmic space
In lands dominion
In the abode of

Divine grace.

From where the seeds of life grew
Many many creations

All to some enlightened few


Leave your memories

Behind the door.

Peel off the past
And come along fresh
With no fear of anything,

Far or near.

Come free
In order to hear
The silence of the heart
Sublime and clear,

An ocean without shore.

A vast sky
With no stars
Without hands

Marks or songs


The morning breeze
Soft, gentle and moist
Caresses the cactus

With its spikes and thorns.

Gently, like mother life

Covers the living and the dead.

Always now

Extending into the future.

Inventing, destroying
So that life appears in ebbs and flows
Yet all is suspended
In life’s glow
From one Divine source
Forever contained
Always maintained

By Allah’s love sustained.

Disorder of 'Order'

We seem so organized.

We know every insect,

Dissect every flower.

Great dead leaders
Reincarnated as airports

or long boulevards.

Codes and standards
Meetings and protocol
Arguments and differences
Discussed and harmonized
All a thin veneer
Held by fear and anxiety

Man’s veils and claims.

A life filled with the dead past
With a ray of hope
For a future more secure
Or less obscure
Or less anguish
Or a holiday disaster
When a sudden thunderstorm
ravaged the beachfront

With an angry sea.

Which shattered sea-front cafes
And cancelled games and noise.
Days wiped out

Long life short lived.

Party organized
mostly wrapped in uncertainty
To seduce mass arrogance
Deceit and denial
And reliance on hard cash,
Hard hearts,
Hard tombstones,
Hard love,
Hard life,

Hard death.

Try as they may to organize
But will they recognize
The power behind,

In front, high and low.


From one orchard to the next
From heart to heart


But since progress and development
The trees are worth
More dead than living
And the asset of the gypsy
Is lamenting

In songs and homelessness.

Whilst the children
Play on the roadside
And wave at the last bus load of sleepy tourists

In mid-afternoon.

Winding their way through
The narrow cobbled road
Of the ancient village
Where the old mosque’s minaret
Is now home to grateful pigeons
And the cry of Allah
Has become Olla
And the perfume of Jasmine

Replaced with gasoline fumes.

Whilst the fallen fence
Of the olive and fig orchard
Invites trespassers,

Innocent cockerels echoing each other.


After the fierce mid-day sun
The wind gathered the gray clouds

And rain poured.

The lady and grandmother slept
Whilst the young widower

Next door wept.

Officially the holidays were over
And the tourists have left
A tired and uncertain mountain village

Looking for identity.

With newly renovated old buildings empty
The singer lamenting
Days gone by,

When love was free to fly.

Heroic Dictator

Our great leader
Was in the past a courageous freedom fighter
Now he is the nations bleeder

And hatred breeder.

There is no bound
For his personal ambition
Or constant suspicion
He is the enemy

Of anything that moves.

For if it moves
Then it can disapprove
Of our great leader
The nation bleeder

Despotic Dictator.

The story is common
In numerous impoverished states
Where democracy and freedom was the slogan
And the poisonous bate
Corrective action is now too late
And people are traumatized

And have given in to their pitiful fate.

the early years of struggle and fervor
Are now replaced with a cruel

Central government dishing out favors.

Saluting the flag

Filling their bag.

Meanwhile the government’s fixation
Is on increasing collectable taxation
Whilst unemployment races
With increasing population
In constant battle with people’s expectations.
Yet our cruel Dictator continues
To promise a better life
With the obvious beneficiary being his wife
The madam in major business deals
Including arms, minerals and steel

Whilst the people go to sleep with no meals.

Crowded Loneliness
The lonely soul,
Like all souls,
Just like the rest,
Expecting paradise,
Instantly and urgently,
While the passion burns,
And the Heart yearns.
Where is the soul mate?
To console,
To assure,
To confirm,
That all is truly secure,

Within the core of constant change.

The passion burns in,
Drives you on,
Searching for the lost treasure,
Along the scorching sand dunes,
With no oasis in sight,
No palm trees or shade,
And no stopping place,
No soul mate,
Only your fragile soul, One,
Reflected in two’s
And millions,
And the more you look,
The less you see,
For at the final end of dispersion,
There is gatherdness,
Chaos leading to order,
When you have finished with two,
You have reckon with you one,
And when you have finally given up,
The illusion of your one,
There begins the journey,
For the ONE,
Unto the ONE,

By grace of the ONE.

There was always ONE,
There is but ONE,