Malang

A malang is a spiritual mystic, a person who is not bothered about the material things in this world. They have no homes, like nomads they wander the city streets seeking the meaning of life, staying in mosques or the shrines of muslim saints.
You may be able to understand the poem a bit better by looking at these pictures:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/shahid_ikram/2526819903/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rohtas/415315855/

Malang

I sit here, unmoving,
Solitude is my friend
My eyes shut tight,
Darkness my sole protector,
my only guide here now.
My ears take in all the sounds,
yet, I am alone.
My mind a veil,
as it waits to be lifted,
To be shown true light,
To be shown true beauty.
My fingers, as I feel them,
Tick of each bead,
One by one
With each word I speak.
My back against the cool wall,
The sun beats against my skin,
Yet I feel nothing.
I sit, and I wait
I wait….
I hear the beat
Slow and steady,
As my head begins to sway in unison
Faster, louder
It quickens
I am drawn to it,
As it pulls me towards it’s magnetic sound.
I sway, I stumble
I do not care
For that veil has been lifted
I have seen the light
I have seen true beauty
I spin, sway
I am one with the beat,
I am one with the world
I am one with Him.
And then it stops
I fall
Exhausted,
As that ecstasy leaves my mind
The veil falls back into place.
I sit here, unmoving,
Solitude is my friend
My eyes shut tight,
Darkness my sole protector,
my only guide here now.