The inner field is rich with the crop of His blessings,
The eyes unable to behold this glorious vision of the world,
Drop anchorage,
Tiptoeing at unearthly hours they dip into a sea of consciousness,
Only to find that the God they worship is palpable,
In every stone, earth, sky and speck of dust.
The eyes unable to behold this glorious vision of the world,
Drop anchorage,
Tiptoeing at unearthly hours they dip into a sea of consciousness,
Only to find that the God they worship is palpable,
In every stone, earth, sky and speck of dust.
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| The Song Of The Sufi Masroof |
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