(Note: A new chapbook of poems written in Turkey recently, in pocket size format,
during sohbets (talks) given by a saintly teacher, my zone listening to the Turkish
producing these amiable meditations. Calligraphies punctuate the poems, by great
Chinese calligrapher, Haji Noor Deen. Available now from the printer:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/daniel-abdal-hayy-moore/he-comes-running-poems/paperback/product-21486183.html. There’s also a preview on the
printer’s page.)

Three poems:


At the dawn call to prayer from
the nearby lovely spindly-minareted
mosque crossing adhans from other
minarets by loudspeakers all the
dogs near and far begin to yip and
howl and bark in chorus as well

Are they Satan’s dogs howling in
disrespect to keep the believers
away or are they God’s dogs
joyously celebrating the calls
and joining in annunciatory glee

extending the call to the dog
world and any other sleepy
canines within the ears’ both
short and triangular or long and floppy
compass of sound?


There were chickens and geese
and strange pointy goose-tongues as
they hacked their greetings or
admonitions at us through the

Then later sheep and straggly
odorless rose bushes and a
bright orange flower with
sheep in the distance

A bare and barren landscape
with dry grasses rough hedges and
bluish mountains in the distance
that Van Gogh with bamboo pens
and sepia and India ink could
bring to vibrant life with quick
stipple strokes and a thousand
heartfelt dots


While awaiting the king’s arrival
seventy foals were born in
a barn filled with illuminated

Three cities submitted to a very
short tyrant’s army because of
the size of the brass buttons on
their uniforms

Hair and nails got longer and the
seasons changed

Little by little a fair outline of the
king emerged and some said
they saw it between the forest
trees and others that they ate
with it just after dawn

Maybe the king was already
with us all along

Posted in ISLAM/SUFISM, Light, Muslim Poetry, POEMS, POETRY, Sufi Poetry | 1 Comment



The little black fly on the wall doesn’t stop to
think what he knows, those
multiple eyes are enough. God’s
sight through them shows him the world.

Birds don’t think, “Fly or soar as I
      might, I’m only a bird in a
         bird’s world, one
      eye on each side of my head, my
            limited universe not

The worm in the sod blind as
death, pushing through darkness it may not
see, does it think
“I wish I could stand
on two legs in a drawing room and sip
tea as I listen to someone
     at a spinet play Mozart”?

Enclosed in the world, we enclose the world, and
it’s enclosed inside us until
we open. We’ll bump into
every wall until we

go from world to
Creator of world, Who’s
given us our world apparatus and sensitive
contraption for grasping the world, and
if we sight along His
cross-hairs in the

Unseen we should
see Him originating this

He who
creates us as we

Fly, bird and worm, and
man, hearts on the
optical throne.

filling us to the brim.

In which to
see Him.
(from Miracle Songs for the Millennium, 1996, being edited for publication)

Posted in ABDAL-HAYY'S POETRY, amazement, ETERNITY, Light, Muslim Poetry, POEMS, POETRY, signs of allah, Sufi Poetry, The Path, The Soul | 2 Comments

Mawlid in New Brunswick, NJ, this past Friday, alhamdulillah…


Here’s a video snippet of the singing during the New Brunswick Mawlid I participated in. I’m the left hand corner squinting at the text… the singing was so reminiscent of mawlids in Morocco due to the fine leadership of Shadee Elmasry (in white burnoose), head of the Center there… It’s not the best fidelity nor the most ecstatic moment… but a taste… with a few hundred folk out of camera shot… 


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By Our Smallness We Know Your Vastness



O Prophet of Allah, by our smallness we know your vastness,

by our electron microscopes we know in this world
how very little of the whole world we can know —

what shape we are in, what velocity through space, how
      organically we are connected
to everyone else in this race that has
     spread out so thoroughly from the
            loins of Adam.

Right now, our knowing ourselves to be alive,
that sense of total infusion between sound of
      motorcycle on the street outside
with the picture of silver-edged sublimity we have of you
superimposed in out-of-time dimensions
for the gesture of transmission to be triggered
1400 years ago through the tumult of time
        to now!

Transparency of leaf over leaf
in the leaf mold of totality!

Layered celluloid maneuvers of still pictures
to the illusion of motion.

Has time elapsed since the first time
    Allah blew into His
       Light and said:

      Be Muhammad?

Has the fish embryo developed into rapacious shark
with slit eyes and merciless teeth
    who turns its white bulk
       and swims away?

The sands of Sayyedina Muhammad stretch in all
six directions at once!

Connecting us to that first sand grain
     puffed into space
that finds its place in the sea of a trillion grains
one so next to the other
or so on top of the other, or so underneath

in infinite array past
all mathematics but the supra-elemental
that goes on to a zero
that drops its silver egg
into the infinitesimal yawn of space
     who feels nothing
        and goes on as usual

since nothing at all has happened
but the repetition of the Divine Name
      on Its Own Lips

in the everywhere at once of original night.

O Prophet of Allah,
you were sent out of this

to tell us, being of it, to lead us, being
from it, to its

Source, its spark, its

one time

stopping place. 
(from Sparrow on the Prophet’s Tomb, The Ecstatic Exchange, 2009)

Posted in ABDAL-HAYY'S POETRY, ISLAM/SUFISM, Mawlid Poem, Miracles, Muslim Poetry, POEMS, POETRY, Praise of Prophet, Prophet Muhammad, signs of allah, Sufi Poetry, The Prophet | 1 Comment

Winter Scene


(Note: Though this poem was written in 2001, amazingly it turns out to have been written the same date as tonight, January 7, during one of the coldest Polar Vortex chill blasts I’ve experienced, and certainly the coldest in many years in Philadelphia. With prayers for the indigent and God’s warmth on them…)

Cold winter night blue snow crust on the ground
colors bleached out to only a few from the usual spectrum

even multicolored things in black and white now
palladiums of xylophone ice cabinets in a near dimension suspended

just above ground level played on by angels using
devilish mallets to make long low echoing plongs of sound

reverberate among skeletal trees housing the few birds
left in their snow coats trying to snooze heads deeply

buried in wing-pits like tight
feather balls for a sport frozen in space the pitch

suddenly stopped in midair until spring thaw
when all will float freely in space again against

flittering green backdrops and uncoiling scarlet splashes and
a soft golden ubiquitous light even in the middle of the night

it seems with earth’s blood flow pulsing so
youthfully again through the vision screen

and everything again like a golden
ocean in motion with all its leaping arcs and arches

not like the 
present suspended animation of the silvery ice-world held in the

center of planetary star-space like a single round teardrop frozen on its
sad descent to nowhere from no particular

origination to no clear destination but dear God’s good
pleasure through all His various weathers rapidly

shifting from hot to cold and
back again in our 

1/7/2001 (from Blood Songs, The Ecstatic Exchange, 2012)

Posted in ABDAL-HAYY'S POETRY, ISLAM/SUFISM, Light, Muslim Poetry, POEMS, POETRY, signs of allah, snow, Sufi Poetry, winter | Leave a comment


horse and sugar

From a particular height
a stone bird is sought

From another altitude
silk rain’s beseeched

From yet another more daring
God’s outline in the dark

His perspective from a peak
over all the world

The heart like a pinnacle
scaled in a blink

blind the outer eye
the inner eye opened

The journey entailing
a wholehearted silence

the iciness warmed
by the charge of our blood

We come back with nothing
and no words to say it

more precious than all the
things we can name

all radiance captured
in uncapturable space

the subtlest lineaments
of His indescribable Face

A door opened quietly
the whole room dissolved

The house dark at last
and everyone sleeping

The whisper that lights up
the five known worlds

This and the next
and the three realms between

Mulk Malakut Jabarut
at the tips of our heartbeats

vision soft as a feather
enfolding the moon

We sit very still
and it all comes inside us

The altitudes turned
into generous gestures

Open hand for the horses
to nibble sugar in bliss

in the barn where the owl sits
as darkness comes down

Take from the silence
what words you can

Add your silence and they rise
to their proper dimensions

From a particular height
where a stone bird is sought

from another altitude
where silk rain’s beseeched

and from another more daring
God’s outline in the dark

His perspective from a peak
over all the worlds


12/30/13 (from Next Life)

Posted in ABDAL-HAYY'S POETRY, ISLAM/SUFISM, Light, Love, Love of God, Muslim Poetry, New Years Poem, POEMS, POETRY, signs of allah, Silence, Sufi Poetry, The Soul | Leave a comment

Sphere of Light


Waiting fifteen minutes to Fajr Prayer
just this side of the

end of the world
kaleidoscoping inward toward us all

escalators and fiery stairways
plummeting through purple smoke totally

overpopulated each step with
people fleeing what’s all around and

inside us
except for occasional beings floating in

huge translucent spheres of a golden
light whose eyelids flutter slightly

at each explosion but whose
heartbeats are even louder than each

explosion and somehow
soothing in the smoke-blacked air

to everyone on their way upward
step by step out of the crumbling chaos

Buildings and mountains become
dissolving dancers in Allah’s perfect


in this perfectly silent room
at the starting point of Fajr

in Allah’s perfectly executed fluttering
choreography each instant

in this sphere of light
we are all in

12/24/13 (from He Comes Running, in progress)

Posted in ABDAL-HAYY'S POETRY, ISLAM/SUFISM, Light, Muslim Poetry, Muslim Prayer, POEMS, POETRY, saints, signs of allah, Sufi Poetry, The Soul | Leave a comment