The Indigo Firmament is the dwelling-place of Zaman Stanizai's reflections — poems, essays, and philosophical inquiries turned toward meaning as the very marrow of being. May the visitor who wanders here, waking to what already is and reaching toward what is yet to become, and so ascend — striving, ever striving — toward a higher consciousness — striding, and straining still, toward perfection in that divine realm – in the Oneness of Being.
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Hearing Him Hum
(Reflections on the Opening Chapter of the Qur’an)
By Zaman Stanizai
In the name of the Para-Cosmic Consciousness,
Whose Oneness of Being pens the verses
of perpetually unfolding multiplicities.
Whose Essence weaves
into every fiber of our existence
as the Wholeness of immeasurable timeless tomorrows.
All praise is due to the Infinite Eternity,
Whose love radiates through our soul,
Whose glory graces every grain of our being,
and Whose awe paints our fragile illusions.
O Divine Beloved,
the Ineffable shaper of transient temporalities
and transcendent realities!
Give us the thought that thinks Thee.
Give us a pleading heart that desires Thee,
a yearning that utters nothing but Your love.
Turn us into a longing that dies to dissolve in
the harmonic convergence of Your totality.
Help us thread our pathways
through the splendor of
your enchanting gardens and idyllic meadows
where moments of Your manifest Beauty
attain a ‘foreverness’ all their own.
Distance us from the dissonance of dark energy.
Bathe us in the luminous glow of Your countenance—
Light,… upon light,… upon light.
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Wings of Fire
When the light within routs the dark that housed it —
I mount the rays of sulfur,
pour out of you as wings still dreaming,
breathing the streaked infinity.
I fly.
I fly past the walls of self,
into what waits before me,
my nothingness left in the dust.
I had been you the whole ignorant length of my becoming,
every being a rehearsal of unbeing.
On these wings of fire I gather into you,
into the scattering of what you are —
the thoughts a heart once would not hold
thoughts made flesh I dare to call mine,
the ones my heart had long refused.
Their flight from my nothingness leaves only a trace —
a fleck of cosmic dust,
luminous, unrepeatable —
that fleck was the whole of me
a longing caught in the glow of a single moment,
watching, not knowing,
you take flight toward your Self.
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The Blossomed Bough
A bough sways, drunk on its own blossoming,
bowed low by lush lips
that kiss the meadow's grounded green.
Awe gathers there, unhurried,
lingering to slake a thirst it cannot name.
Dew nestles
in the palms of peach-pink petals,
weighing a precarious plunge
into the warm dark of the night.
Distant dreams
spin their soft soliloquy
out of the stillness —
and the night says nothing back.
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As I Sea It شینکی آسمان قلم و کاغذ
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