Poem: Meeting Bahlool

I walk in the street, 

My head upwards in conceit, 

I look around to see, 

a man sitting beneath a gum tree, 

scruffy looking with torn clothes,

mumbling something under his nose, 

'For sale, For Sale, Here, for sale is Paradise'

I look around, and see no one in the shadows, 

As the sun continues to rise. 

He looks at me and says, 

'this is one chance, never to come again'

I think to myself, 'from this craziness I better abstain'

His name is Bahlool and he is know as majnun.

What will be the reaction to meeting Bahlool? 

A man who pretends to be crazy, 

On the orders from imam a ج, a command that is hazy, 

Yet he follows the orders to a T. 

I hear people calling him crazy, 

yet I know, he thinks of me the same way.

How you ask?  I am perfectly sane,

Bahlool would look at me and say, 

"Mahjabeen, you are crazy about the duniya again,

Is there a more delusional and destructive thing such as it?

Yet, they call me insane, unaware that this is the domain, 

Of God Almighty!  Where can I even begin to explain!"

I am once again dumbfounded by this realisation, 

That the world is but a temptation, 

blinded by it would lead nothing, 

and definitely not what people look for - liberation.

*The above poem was inspired by a recent majalis [religous social gathering] that I attended.