Certitude is not required to
start down this path,
just the lifelong lack of a
workable alternative.
What’s at stake here? A few more years
of inadequacy, fraught with
dread and sorrow?
Garbed in the world, I become
its infinitesimal center.
I’m not cut out to be a
Qutub! –
the ill-shaped cogs and
wheels, bolts and gears
screech and grind, sparking
in their turn.
Not certitude but a verification
comes
in the quiet fluidity of my
daily practice.
When I wrap myself in the
Beloved’s sadra,
I begin to disappear in His
eternal Presence
as does also this tainted world
to which
I do not (and never once did)
belong.
O child of God, if the Beloved
does it all
and does it with love, where
is the gamble?
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