Joys Of Meditation

To those who haven’t tasted, the drug does not exist,

And those who have, can’t get enough of the view,

More intoxicating than any wine, pleasurable and divine,

Not even a Mystic, the joys of meditation only a drunkard can describe.

Entering through the mind, it takes over all senses,

Till a bright orange sun rises between the eyes,

A most beatific smile plays on lips long pursed,

That such joy exists, is beyond the ordinary mind,

Like a gold fish has been let loose in the ocean for the very first time,

Flapping its fins, rolling over, racing ahead, falling back, surfacing to breathe,

In this ocean of transcendence, there’s a glimpse of who the fish really is.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof