Holiday from the Perfect Crime / Poems

Somehow the resonance for me during the entertaining of this title as an abiding albeit background theme for the poems was the perfect crime of our existence: perfect because created by a perfect Creator. A crime because we get up to such malfeasance all the time at the lower end of it and a crime at the higher end in the sense that the Sufis often mention that any existence of theirs before Allah ta'ala any flake or residue of their self-ness is a crime a flaw an obstruction before the Light of God. Only when you have known a saint (wali) of whatever spiritual practice do you the sense of a personality honed to its finest before the divine consciousness whose actions and words and thoughts are soaked in divinity to such a degree that the person is truly human in its essence and effaced before God in His ever-present and infinitely Merciful activity.