A Guiding Whisper Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Ah! My mind often brings me behind,
To the unpolluted visionary age,
When my heart wished to dissolve,
Physical entity of my own being,
In the burning passion: love of God.
I wished to melt or freeze myself,
Standing in the scorching sun,
Or in the cold winds chilling the bones,
On some sandy rock to worship,
To adore Almighty shedding beads of tears,
That may make channels on my cheeks,
And spend the span of life with angelic modes,
But some time a low guiding whisper,
Emerging from some deep recesses,
Of the fathomless world of inner-self
Would spring up to converse to me,
“Picking up a few thorns from the path,
Where from advances mankind,
With bare sore feet is much better,
Than the seclusion of seventy years.”