انتفاضة الروح (The Uprising Of The Soul)

A hymn for those who believe in the evidence of subjective experience.

For those who have chewed on the hollow reed of skepticism and found that it is the most deceptive restraint of all.

For those who have experienced liberation in humility, the humility of belief in the only One who is Real.

“We created man, and we know what his soul whispereth to him, and we are closer to him than his neck vein.”

-Quran (50:16)

I.
Let us go, you and I
Beyond the perfidious Eye
Past the coiled serpent of reason,
The Sirens of Limbic treason

Let us explore the spaces between reality,
The Thing and the No-Thing in their actuality
Beneath humanity’s cracked veneer,
Seek the Pneuma of the Puppeteer

Let us descend into the illusion
So we may escape the illusion
In the labyrinths that traverse us
Let us search for the numinous

II.
Here in this whispering darkness,
This unfathomed, stygian blackness
Lies the beast never named or observed
Yet so violently felt, so timorously served

Much is born in this blackness
Much is learnt in this blackness
Sight is but a reflection of this blackness
The Ego is but the spilt paint of this blackness

All tongues find their voices here
All songs seek their music here
In these black tides of chaos is the advent
Of idea, of ideology, of all we invent

This blackness that breaks the strongest resolve,
These riddles that reason cannot solve
This Ouroboros that devours to create you;
The Beast has a face and the face is you

III.
Because your creations are your Self transcribed
Because your philosophies are your nature proscribed
Because your enlightenment darkens your firmament
Because your advancement has become your confinement

Because our passions beyond their indulgence are myth
Because our lives past our memories, are myth
Because wrought to its utmost, science is myth
Because all knowledge has frontiers of myth

IV.
Only when the shackles of learning are broken
Can the tongue of the soul be spoken
It cannot speak in hollow commentaries
Crafted in the confines of our forced binaries
Where all things must be diametrically opposed
And the boundaries of reason presupposed
It is found only in moments when the Ego ceases to breed
The reflections of itself it calls Code and Creed
In the ferment of the spirit that is restless
In the frenzied poetry of nights spent sleepless
In visions that only in reveries visit
But above all in the fire of the Prophetic Spirit

The spirit that will not be denied its realization
In the ice and fire of worship and adulation
In the Vision of the Prophet find consummation
Countless Passions of exultation and affliction
Passions that cannot be washed away with dissidence
Nor contained in Temples bereft of sapience
Passions that know no faith is blind
For love inhabits more than the heart and mind
Passions that seek out the Divine Mystery,
The Source that has no periphery.
Tear away the perfidious eye and you will see
That nothing separates God and me