”Kabir is not easily categorized as a Sufi or a Yogi — he is all of these. He is revered by Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs. He stands as a unique, saintly, yet very human, bridge between the great traditions that live in India. Kabir says of himself that he is, “at once the child of Allah and Ram.”
http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/K/Kabir/index.html
He’s That Rascally Kind Of Yogi
He’s that rascally kind of yogi
who has no sky or earth,
no hand, foot,
form or shape.
Where there’s no market
he sets up shop,
weighs things
and keeps the accounts.
No deeds, no creeds,
no yogic powers,
not even a horn or gourd,
so how can he
go begging?
‘I know you
and you know me
and I’m inside of you.’
I have been thinking
the planets in all the galaxies
pass through his hands like beads.
That is a string of beads one should look at with luminous eyes.
How Humble Is God
God is the tree in the forests that
allows itself to die and will not defend itself in front of those
with the ax, not wanting to cause them
shame.
And God is the earth that will allow itself to
be deformed by man’s tools, but He cries; yes, God cries,
but only in front of His closest ones.
And a beautiful animal is being beaten to death,
but nothing can make God break His silence
to the masses
and say,
“Stop, please stop, why are you doing this
to Me? “
How humble is God?
Kabir wept
when I
knew.
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