She died at heaven's gate

"She died at heaven's gate .. "
by Azly Rahman


O' Messenger
I know she would return-- but not dead and still lovely like this!
And tell me-- it is not because of the poem she called "wicked and funny"?
... Not the metaphors of Life I used way too many?
Not talks of boddhistavas and deserving nirvanas?
These are not -- I hope
For these are mere words with not much hope

But she sent me sandstorms
And reconstructed love and conjure stories of more storms
The Rubaiyat of Wall Street I sent her was a gift too strange for many
But one which is a prelude to a journey
Many hath received gifts from me -- but few giveth back gracefully
Are we not the Gift -- unto IT we return night and day, every second aplenty?
But this lovely dragonfly of mine that flew close to the sun--
had not I expected her to surrender so easily
Though I know that rubaiyat a thing so phantasmagoric bound in eternity

I did not write the rubaiyat -- neither the butterfly many thought had died already
But is fantastic -- is it not?
What kind of mind created such verses
Not to be shared with others
Never reveal these to others
From the fountain of Al Kautsar it must have come
Verses and verse poets longed for

O' Messenger I have said to this soul searcher
That the hand -- as it writes --- writes
None is erased
Beauty flows from the heart
Love conquers all with all its might
And I write drunketh and intoxicated
As I sit alone in my kingdom--- of rainbow I erected

We will find out how this divine comedy will transpire
Methinks it might be beautiful if the Dead is resurrected
    and Love reconstructed entire
I will make this journey a peaceful one
Thou hath come a long way in search of the Chosen One

Stay for a while to write this story
You have journeyed times too many
Sit back, relax
perhaps a Cafe Mocha Grande' Starbuck coffee if you may?

She is a lovely child
Many hath asked me to lead them to this path so right
So right ... so right ... it is so blindingly bright
But not for this soul who is aspiring to greater heights

But O' Messenger tell me this
Which gate of heaven is she now at?
The night before I sent her a gift
Like many gifts I sent her and many others for their journey
To loves of my life and to unseen enemies aplenty

O' Messenger
I do not think this soul would be back so early
I had not finished even rewriting Dante's Divine Comedy
Lovely is she not? And she has the sword with her too
       one engraved with the words Might and Right
And she arrived early in the morning -- perhaps she took the early flight?

O' Messenger
You will stay with me
And write this chapter of metaphysical history
It can be better
     than a rumi
     or saadi
     or john donne's poetry
                        we shall see
And I have found my way
Already bored with metaphysical muses at this grand tower made of ivory
And bored of multiple voices I find fake, hollow, and empty

But now
Let me
Rewrite this divine comedy
But who is me?
Who is "I"
Who is "we"
In this kingdom of harmony?

So hush messenger
bring me the answers to this soul's beginning
                                                      and its destiny ...