Green Grass

The beauty of silence is that it pushes open doors,
That have been closed too long,
Doors I wouldn't peep through for fear of being lost,
It questions what really exists,
Like the firm ground beneath my feet, is it really firm enough?
Or have I been balancing on patches of green grass?
Before it ushers in peace, it rattles my beliefs,
Am I a believer or is my fear my God?

The Song of the Sufi Masroof