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I put my heart out. Went to the doorstep of mosque. & placed my heart at Cleric's feet. I said; "This is my charity" "Per my understanding" Of Tahaa & Yaseen As much down can go My forehead in bowing to God As much enlightenment can get My physique made of soil As much my tongue can make it sweeter" Cleric turned his face away from me Said; "What is it in your plate?" "It neither rice, nor a custard" "Neither pudding nor ice cream" Said; "Sharia sort the apparent And apparently you are immoral Of love for the Lord What story have you made up? Fear and only fear from The Subduer Is the truth of faith This passion and Beloved of yours What careless philosophy is it? Put your heart back in your chest Bring appearance and presentation here. Your wine is haram here. Bring juice and glass". I took my plate full of dreams To the court of a Justice. I picked my little heart And took it to mashed wires and snake pit. I said; "Oh Head of Right & Wrong Head of Black and White Please accept my present In the name of the Beloved. The Justice sat on his chair Put his bench wig on. Put one hand on a canon. Put his other on the fence. Picked the scale of logic. Him on one side, my plate on the other. It was noise and weakness on one side It was cold and sophistication on the other. It was wisdom and logic on one side There was no passion or glory. It was lost wandering on the other side. Lost and bewildered sort of thought. I said; "Take this craziness. And put a lock on your wisdom. I said my this high Put it as a chain to your wisdom. I said, Oh the Lord of Justice Look at the destination of wanderers. Look at this imperfect judgement". The Justice looked up Tight lipped and worried face. Said; "Regret is lost on me. Which you want from me. I am the power of mankind. I am not the ecstasy of Adam. I have chosen this white and black From the gardens of pleasure. I see black. and I see white. This is all of my story.