On My Way to The Badshahi Mosque (Of Saints and Sinners)

The wind, it whispers to me some days,
“there is no greater evil”, it says,
“than the evil of desperation great,
and the obligation of adhering fate”.
With the gathering fog upon the horizon,
I am reminded of a hopeless night,
where upon I willed to see the Holy mizzen,
the Royal Mosque and behold its sight.
But somewhere along the beguiling path,
I endeavored to incite the godly wrath,
for truly the steps of an indulgent sinner
can wear the string of faith even thinner
Lo! there was I in the castle of colors
amidst the ruined and crumbly pillars
that sheltered a thousand bastard kings,
echoed with the sound of broken wings.
This was the ill fated palace of sin
and the house of the rising sun therein,
a thousand chambers of libido’s embrace
and peeked from within each a heavenly face.
Desires and dreams flowed vivid and free,
in virgin passions and sweetest sherry.
See, the test of religion is simple and just,
you must travel to God’s house to find Him,
but the ease of temptation, sinning and lust
is that Satan entreats you to invite him.
Where wood must blacken in voracious fires
hearts must burn in incessant desires.
Neigh was the moment when I saw this siren
the sincerest two eyes towards me arisen,
I had lost my breath along with all fidelity
submitting to her seemed the only morality,
this Venus of avolition, she came to me
and drove my blood in a most torrid sea,
but with a voice I swear could set me free,
she whispered the words that can never be
forgotten and Lo! they were as I write,
“Fear not my Saint of ill fated men
you are a mortal before your religious rite
and mortals may fall every now and then,
but it takes an immortal to see the light
there! beyond where these colors divide,
true hope and this sullenly momentous delight,
lies the path to what you must decide,
the Holy Mosque or this shameful abode?
the throne of God, or this loveless bed?”
These words touched me at a poignant node
and before I lay, I awoke and fled,
I found the path she had told me of.
I came upon the great Holy Mosque,
someone at its gate did recognize me,
and asked of me, “O! great saintly one!
Of those wretched women do you not agree?,
the ones that belong to the rising sun,
that they have long tested the faith of men,
and have wished to turn the pious unto them.
How I wish that God would burn that palace,
the only home of true evil and malice”.
Twice I thought and then two times more,
of how guilty I felt for opening that door,
but then and there, amidst the passing crowd,
I saw those eyes and a visage a’shroud,
she pulled her veil and she smiled to me,
she had walked that path to come and see,
if I had reached where I had wished to be,
while the wind blew by with willful glee.
I had returned, as the Babylonian rebel
with the restless anticipation of Edens gate,
and there stood she, that madonna of Babel,
locked out of Heaven by a merciless fate.

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16 thoughts on “On My Way to The Badshahi Mosque (Of Saints and Sinners)

    1. You speak not only from the heart dearest sir, but from the depths of the soul. The Bible tells me that “from the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” I like to paraphrase that for the blogs and my website as I feel it is the idea behind it, but “from the abundance of the heart/soul, the hand writes.”
      I truly love and appreciate what comes from your hand/heart/soul! May God be with you greatly!
      Pastor Roland

  1. Love this…I love poems on this sort of theme and you write them so well…oh, the like button is refusing to load, so if it doesn’t after I post this, take this as a resounding ‘like’!!! 🙂

  2. I found some very beautiful and great things here, but was equally saddened to find the quality and power of its message diluted to fit a scheme. The title is absolutely wonderful, as is your way of manipulating wordplay. Thank you for the follow! All my regards.

    1. Verily, I am a long way from perfection, thank you for letting me know how you really feel, in time I will ensure that I master both fluidity and relevance.
      Regards,
      Osama

  3. What a beautiful rhythm. Been rambling through your poetry and loving it; thanks for taking the time to read mine.

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