Haiku poetry originated in sixteenth century in Japan. Capturing a moment in time, a Haiku paints a mental image in a readers mind, usually in three short unrhymed lines.
Poetry is the evidence of life, an armour of the soul, also its disrobe. The poet walks our haunted past, smelling the jasmine of the sunshine yet to dawn.
Poetry is cadence, rhythm, imagery, depth and sweep. Poetry counts. It more than counts. It eases the crinkles and creases of worry on our faces and wipes the grime of our souls. Like the foaming sea, it lashes at us, soaking our insides, and like gentle, incessant rain, it drenches our souls.
I begin my book by serenading the Sufis as for centuries they have been magnificent friends to the human spirit. They are the greatest seekers, lovers, mystics, guides and poets that human kind has ever known. For a sufi, poetry is a net thrown in the sea of His love. Like sunlight moving in a winter room, they burnish our hearts with their luminous grace. Startled by God, their poetry invites us to join in their joyous applause of His presence.
With deep gratitude, I bow to every hand and heart that chooses to hold this book and share my soul’s serenade. If it exhilarates you to write a poem today, I can guarantee you a tomorrow!
May His grace always be with you.