graphs of my Universe
Gurindam is a form of ancient poem of (old) Malay.
Gurindam 12 (twelve gurindam(s)) is a set of gurindam composed by Raja Ali Haji in 1847. Raja Ali Haji was a poet born in Pulau Penyengat, Kepulauan Riau, Indonesia in 1808. He is one of national heroes of Indonesia.
I read it back then in junior high school when comprehension was not really well obtained. I wish to fully understand this gurindam before time is up.
Enjoy….
They have said
I am lost.
What I see…
I am in a forest away
From comfort of thought.
I am not in a castle
In which mind is blunted.
My heart finds home
In which 25 prophets
And 1000 saints
Have found the paths.
It is a way
That all Prophets and Saints bless.
I am home
With the flow
That brings petals
To where fragrance blends
With clarity of fluids,
Various fluids
Gliding to a vast ocean
Of love.
——
i don’t care anymore what i am called by them — Muslim? Alhamdulillah, Sufi? Subhanallah, Buddhist? Masya Allah
what i am sure of is that my sutra is sutra of love with which all prophets and saints have travelled, whatever religions they have been associated with
thank you
💕
Now here is a point
Where start and finish collide.
A shadow of yours—
—
Ripples break the face
On the lake. Beauty remains
In the lover’s heart.
—
A teacher asked whether there could be two Layla for one Majnun.
Everyone in the class knew the answer. There is only one Layla for one Majnun. That Majnun and that Layla—
Salaam.
Ney….
Your song pulled me down in to the depth of abyss
Gliding with no weight,
Free falling –
Ney….
Your tone touched me on the hollow emptiness
Craving for sensations,
Crashing on nothingness.
Ney….
Your call dragged me along the path that I know well, yet
I am lonely and blind,
Waiting for a map.
Ney….
Do you know I’ve been here all my life,
My breath,
My step,
My tear,
My despair,
All of mine.
Ney….
You are the breeze that sweeps my draught
Then soars;
The dewdrop that breaks my morning
Then wakes up;
The spark that lights up my flame
Then burns.
The dirt that buries my hope
Then grows.
Ney….
It is you
That swirls like earth spiraled upwards by tornado,
And travels afar before it hits the door of heaven.
Ney….
I am taking your hands.
Your weeping cries will always accompany my journey
To you, Ney.
Phnom Pehn – August 2, 2019 – 22:45
rike jokanan 
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