Bird Of Petty Thoughts

I wish for a piece of the sky for a heart,

Open, infinite, a gust of wind, a river of mercy,

When the bird of petty thoughts gently swoops down to drink from the river,

Its wings be broken, its knees be bent,

And with a drop from the river, its life be spent,

In death the bird be transformed into a dove, pure and selfless.

The relentless birds that crowd the sky of our stilted hearts and mind,

May they be homeless and cold,

There be no warm stew, no fire, to invite them in,

Let there be death, swift and merciless,

So that a thousand doves may rises from their ashes.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof