When I met him he was a giant Panda bear. He was an ex-student of a false teacher. He never said that I just got that impression ’cause later that same guy told me to be nice to his cousin cause he had no dad and was not right in the head. So I accepted that cousin back as a friend and he was just as rude as he ever was and he even said his cousin lied about him…that he had a dad. For the longest time I believed the Sufi Guru and did not speak much with his ex student who would never say what had happened between them. To the great Sufi guru’s credit he was always kind to me in a distant way….but it turns out that his student was much more accesible.

At first we did not talk much until we began to chat on skype and the timing was the timing of the asshole brigade attacks….,(he would not like me to use these words but this is who I am), I still cannot figure him out. Sometimes I think people are there with him when we speak and I am part of a lesson on what not to be but then other times I think he is such a peaceful and calming force. Of all of my friends online only two could save me from rage by thier natures. One is Pretty….The other one is Sufi.

In the wake of the star of the evening sinking below the horizon and missing people who are precious beyond explanation to me is this calm, quiet, unpreturbed voice telling me tales of miraculous sheep that no one remembered a week later and, in the beginning, tales of how the tribal warriors came from Afghanistan to Pakistan.

I don’t know what it is about his voice and personality that can make me feel calm when I am raging and cussing people who, even though they deserve it, hurt me more by being angry to them then it does them because such people are heartless and care nothing for other human beings…unless it serves them somehow….

Weird things are happening…..somehow he is connected.

For you then, Sufi, this lovely poem….




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