Questions in a Jar

My forest Zawiya back in Los Angeles - where questions pray, play and ponder

Questions in a Jar

I love collecting questions in a jar, like fireflies,
Answers rest like stones along the winding way.
While questions tease and twirl beneath the sky,
I chase each one and join in their play.

I love questions that reveal a hidden trail,
Where I can wander like a fairy in pure delight.
So thrilling, this game, where questions hide while I seek,
And answers lure me with glimmers of light.

I love silly questions that can reveal to me more,
Like: would you love me if I were a worm?
A joke, a riddle, and a key to a door,
To see if this love transcends beyond form.

I love to be where teachers are near,
Where the universe is as high as it is wide,
Where they guide my thoughts from murky to clear,
As they embrace my many how’s and why’s.

I love questions that make me feel you’ve listened,
That lifts the threads of everything I’ve said,
And traces where my scattered thoughts have thickened,
And weaves them through the path we tread.

I love a question that haunts me all day,
Like the ghost of grief that lingers in the air.
It keeps me company in a mysterious way,
And holds me through what I cannot bear.

I love questions that can unlock what’s deep,
At times, a tender “how are you?” will do.
It can stir the quiet shadows we keep,
And bring to light what’s long been true.

I love when questions mark how high up the mountain I have climbed,
But greater still are those that stop me in my tracks.
I breathe deeply in the peaks where even silence has chimed,
When I ask a question and I am asked one back.

A question is a compass, if you listen close;
It distinguishes the seeker from those who roam.
Answers belong only to He who knows;
Asking is reverence for the vast unknown.

For it was beneath Konya’s sky that the Sun awoke the day,
Two oceans trembled at a question’s call.
If silence ruled the waves and the Sun had stayed away,
Would the ocean have known its waves were a song?

And had Salman never sought beyond the veil,
Would Muhammadi light have found his gaze?
And would nearness to his Beloved remain a distant tale,
If questions had not set his heart ablaze?

My best-friend is my best-friend because she didn’t respond with a “what do you mean?” or “No because I dislike worms” or “uhhhhhh???”. I would also love her if she was a worm.