My Heart Has Become Capable of Every Form

The Poem

My heart has become capable of every form: it is a meadow for gazelles, a monastery for monks,

A temple for idols, the Ka’ba of the pilgrim, the tablets of the Torah, the book of the Quran.

I follow the religion of Love: whatever path Love’s camels take, that is my religion and my faith.

We have a model in Bishr, the lover of Hind and her sister, and in Qays and Layla, and in Mayya and Ghaylan.

From Tarjuman al-Ashwaq (“The Interpreter of Desires”), Poem XI (c. 1215) Based on the translation by Reynold A. Nicholson

Context

The Tarjuman al-Ashwaq is a collection of sixty-one love poems composed by Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi (1165–1240) during his time in Mecca, inspired by his encounter with the learned and pious Nizam, daughter of the scholar Makin al-Din. When critics accused him of writing worldly love poetry unbecoming of a scholar, Ibn Arabi responded by composing a detailed commentary (dhakhair al-a’laq) on each poem, explaining the spiritual meaning concealed within the imagery of human love.

This poem, the eleventh in the collection, has become one of the most quoted and most misunderstood passages in all of Sufi literature.

What Ibn Arabi Actually Means

This poem is frequently cited out of context to suggest that Ibn Arabi endorsed religious relativism or believed all religions are equally valid paths. This reading contradicts both the poem itself and everything Ibn Arabi wrote elsewhere. Understanding what he actually means requires attention to his own commentary and his broader theological framework.

The Heart (Qalb)

The key to the poem is the word qalb (heart). In Arabic, this word shares a root with taqallub, meaning “to turn” or “to be transformed.” For Ibn Arabi, the heart of the perfected human being (insan al-kamil) is not fixed in a single form but is capable of receiving every divine self-disclosure (tajalli).

In his commentary, Ibn Arabi explains that the heart described here is one that has been polished through spiritual practice until it mirrors the Divine Names and Attributes. Such a heart can recognize the trace of the Divine wherever it appears in creation, precisely because it has been purified and made receptive. This does not mean the heart accepts every creed as true. It means the heart perceives the reality behind every form.

The Religion of Love

When Ibn Arabi says “I follow the religion of Love,” he is not proposing a new religion or abandoning Islam. In his commentary, he identifies this “Love” with the divine love that is the origin of creation itself, as expressed in the hadith qudsi: “I was a hidden treasure, and I loved to be known, so I created creation.”

For Ibn Arabi, the most complete expression of this divine love is the religion brought by the Prophet Muhammad, which he elsewhere calls the most comprehensive and final revelation. The “religion of Love” is Islam experienced at its deepest dimension, not an alternative to it.

The Meadow, the Monastery, the Ka’ba

Each image in the poem represents a different form (sura) in which the Divine reality manifests. The meadow, the monastery, the temple, the Ka’ba, the Torah, the Quran: each is a place where human beings have sought the Divine. The perfected heart recognizes the trace of divine self-disclosure in each of these forms because it has learned to see with the eye of the heart rather than the eye of convention.

This recognition does not erase the distinction between truth and falsehood, between complete and partial revelation. Ibn Arabi is clear throughout his writings that the Muhammadan station (maqam Muhammadi) encompasses and transcends all other stations. The heart that “has become capable of every form” sees this precisely because it has been transformed by the fullest revelation.

The Poem in Tradition

The Tarjuman al-Ashwaq stands at the intersection of the Arabic love poetry tradition (ghazal) and Sufi metaphysics. Ibn Arabi deliberately uses the conventions of courtly love poetry, with its gazelles, camels, and lovesick wanderers, to express realities that exceed what discursive language can contain.

The references to Bishr and Hind, Qays and Layla, Mayya and Ghaylan are famous pairs of lovers from pre-Islamic and early Islamic Arabic poetry. By invoking them, Ibn Arabi places himself within a literary tradition while simultaneously transforming it. The earthly beloved becomes the locus of divine self-disclosure. Human love becomes the mirror of divine love.

Reading the Poem Today

This poem continues to resonate because it speaks to a genuine spiritual capacity: the heart’s ability to perceive the sacred dimension of reality. The danger lies in reading it as a statement of theological indifference. The depth lies in reading it as Ibn Arabi intended: as a description of what becomes possible when the heart is fully awakened to its Lord.

As Ibn Arabi himself wrote in the Fusus al-Hikam: “The perfect human being is like a mirror in which Allah sees Himself.” The heart that has become capable of every form is not a heart without conviction. It is a heart so deeply rooted in tawhid (divine unity) that it can perceive the reflection of the One in all things.