Grooves

Grooves forge table and cushion in stern cut folds;

Nature's art or a pre-established pattern holds.

Grooves boast of the groundhog underground;

In grooves, the new sown fields are crowned.

Ethereal grooves flow in streams of mind;

Where thoughts are measured and weighed in kind.

But there is a danger, there is one trap;

Those stuck in a groove suffer an eternal nap.

Their needles of thought soon grow dull;

Minds once sharp fall into a lull.

If one seeks to twist or jerk them 'round;

The force of the groove holds them bound.

Grooves are worshiped, flaunted like shiny jewels;

Hardened mindsets morphed into gods for dupes.

Be it Priestly or Secular Groove;

Be it Tribal or Vernacular Groove;

Be it Intellectual or Emotional Groove;

Be it Status or Professional Groove;

Be it Mystical or Capitalistic Groove;

Be it Historical or Nationalistic Groove;

Becoming stuck in a groove;

Is a lifeless move.

Some worship land, some worship history;

Each in their groove, enchanted by the priest.

Yet should one seek to surmount the trap;

Search your mind; reexamine the map.

Do not copy, imitate nor fake;

Be inspired, create! Fear not mistake!

Brothers and sisters of the land of the pure;

Awaken, as souls akin to the enlightened of yore.

Make keen your minds as did Iqbal;

Who heeded the light of Quran's stellar Call!

Do not complain and do not brood;

Exalted above all shines the Quranic groove.

Here is the way where pure intent reigns free;

Here lies the road to Makkah, the road to Majesty.