That Which Drives Me

That which drives me in, also, drives me out,

That which makes the wind sing, also, makes it still,

What do I leave behind, what do I take?

When the desire and its seed is buried deep,

If all creation is a song that completes me,

Then it must also be the void within,

If I shun the sunlight and know not the colour of the sky,

What is my existence, without the simple pleasures of life?

If my confusion is the path, and clarity the signboard,

Then is my destination, merely, a distilled version of the truth?

Neither this or that, nor within or without,

What if my God is simply the quality, purity of any being?

Like the freshness of water, the cuteness of a child, the openness of a flower,

Compassion of the compassionate and the hunger of the wild,

What if my God is not a staircase to be climbed or a thing to be found?

The Song of the Sufi Masroof