Rivulet of Remembrance

It’s slow in coming, His remembrance,

Like a forgotten rivulet in the woods,

The water flows regardless,

When my weary feet touch the cold water of His name,

The inner landscape changes,

I become the sky and the birds I watch,

The smile that I smile for no one else,

By the rivulet comes the first glimpse of peace,

A little game of hide and seek,

I have tasted it once,

I want more,

This time the feet of consciousness run faster,

I am drunk,

I leap, somersault and run to it,

There’s no question of forgetting where the rivulet is

The cold water of remembrance now runs in me.

Photo courtesy - The Song Of The Sufi Masroof