To be truly prayerful in this world,
I cannot be in this world,
It has its own pace, a bitter-sweet rhythm,
A juvenile jungle, shallow as it’s deep.
For the mirror of the heart to be spotlessly clean,
The lamp of worldliness must be extinguished.
It must be given up, pushed away like a tasteless meal.
To be, the prayer I utter,
I must cover the mirror of my heart,
To allow it to shine, I must go away to return. |
| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
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