One night a man was crying,
Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with the praising until a cynic said,
"So! I have heard you calling out to God, but have you ever gotten any response?"
The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.
And in his dream, he saw the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
"Why did you stop praising?"
"Because I've never heard anything back."
"This longing you express is the return message."
The grief you cry out from
draws you towards union.
Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.
Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.
There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.
Give your life
to be one of them.
- From another ancient Muslim mystic, Rumi.
Cool. This comment by a Christian lady mate says it for me.
The first time I heard this poem on tape, tears fell out of my eyes. I was just driving down the interstate, and the words liquefied me. When I could think again, I thought it was because the poem sanctifies my howling, and the howling of those who--like me--receive so little in the way of clear response. And of course it made me think of Jesus on the cross. The poem assures me that whether or not we ever hear anything from the master, our whining becomes the very connection we seek, and the longing itself is what a love dog's life is for.
Cool.