Poetry Chaikhana Blog

The Making of Sand
by Ayaz

Empty pages
Flap in the wind
In the sovereign silence
There is no history
There is only the cracking
And polishing of stones
by the sun
You see the making of sand
Is a long business
Shaped and re shaped
By surrender

— from The Holy Algorithm, by Ayaz Angus Landman

/ Image by Kunj Parekh /

I should feature the poetry of Ayaz Landman more often. I should just read his poetry more often — note to self. Every time I read his poetry I am surprised anew by how his words ring in the still moments of the day.

This poem, for example, it feels to me like a meditative journey…

Empty pages
Flap in the wind

We start with an image of a book open, its pages empty and flapping in the wind. A bare sketch, dreamlike. Where are the words that should fill the pages? Why would a book’s pages be empty? Perhaps the book is a blank canvas, a space for creativity, a place of possibilities.

Where is the writer? Or the reader? Why is the book out in the wind?

An empty book, an empty space, but with movement, life.

In the sovereign silence
There is no history

These are the words that first grab my attention. That phrase, “the sovereign silence…” That is one to sit with and savor.

Within that silence there is no history. No past. No inner dialog. No self-story. There is just presence.

The empty pages of the book, that must be us. We have become wordless, a part of the silence.

There is only the cracking
And polishing of stones
by the sun

This section is almost alchemical. There is no one there, no history, a place beyond time, but there is a refining process happening. Stones are being polished, refined, by the light of the sun.

What an interesting, almost startling detail in, that sound of cracking in the midst of the silence. A bit of projection on my part, perhaps, but that line suggests to me the inner sound heard in silent meditation and prayer. It can be a soft sound, like the hum of bees or a distant waterfall… or sand carried by the wind, or it can be clear and crisp, like a bell or flute… or perhaps the cracking sound of stones.

The inner sound is the sound of the self’s refinement. And that process is patient work.

You see the making of sand
Is a long business

It is not even that we are doing it. The action is done by the wind, the sun, by the subtle, eternal forces that act upon all things.

Our job is simply to let that process happen…

Shaped and re shaped
By surrender

…to allow ourselves to be remade by our own surrender.

Recommended Books: Ayaz

For You: A Collection of Prayer Poems	The Holy Algorithm	For You Too

“Ayaz” is the Sufi name given to Angus Landman.

More poetry by Ayaz

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