The Monkey Child

Who can give you what,

We are all lost,

Like drifting ships in a storm, abandoned and alone,

If He were to come down from the sky to collect all our fears,

We’d still be wondering, if He meant what he said,

While crossing the road, just like a father holds on to the tiny finger of his child,

We cling to the smallness, the littleness of our mind,

How can the father abandon the monkey child?

Fading in the evening shadow is that small light,

It neither flickers, nor burns bright,

It just wants to be quiet, to delight in the silence that descends after noise,

It wants to empty itself of the sound that has seeped through the walls,

It wants to rest,

It neither needs assurances, nor what’s best,

For those precious moments, it is desireless,

It has left the child and the father behind,

It has become the light that it seeks outside.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof