Sacred Heart #6

The world is no more than the Beloved’s single face;
In the desire of the One to know its own beauty, we exist.

Each place, each moment, sings its particular song of not-being and being.
Without reason, the clear glass equally mirrors wisdom and madness.
Those who claim knowledge are wrong; prayer just leads to trance;
Appearance and faith are mere lees in the Unknowing wine.

Wherever the Footprint is found,
that handful of dust holds the oneness of worlds.

This earth, burnished by hearing the Name, is so certain of Love
That the sky bends unceasingly down, to greet its own light.

Ghalib 1797 -1869 was a prominent figure in south Asian literature and the last poet of the Mughal era (18/19^th c India). His poetry is noted for its imagery and layered meaning

“Why am I here?” is one of the fundamental questions of existence. For Ghalib, the answer is clear. We exist because the One, All That Is, wants to know itself. Everything in existence has no other purpose or reason. All opposites – good and bad and real and unreal – are equal and exist only to reflect the One. A handful of dust holds the oneness of worlds.