Music of the First Glow Of Morning Sunlight 51
From that magic place of inbetwixt and between, a question is answered before it is seen, As the miracle that is not a miracle unravels even my bones. I waver in the winds of the silent space between thoughts every sound, color, line, circle, smile, shadow impregnated with a song. (Old memories of long unforgotten grief plow their way to the surface of my dreams). Here as I witness this time of expansion within me, the feel of the word that is not spoken calls me to remember the music in the silence of my heart to guide my entry into the wisdom of tomorrow. (Beleaguered is a word I have come to ignore)... There are so many lights that have become one that seems to shine within a room of its own darkness. The splendid sweetness of the moment cries out for a song. Wrapped in the wings of the night anticipating the first glow of mornings kiss my sun slumbers near me. (My soul remembers the time of peace long ago before the war declared against myself. It’s over, that sordid love affair is all over)! The song I sing while crying tears of joy. Like the raven as I soar over the canyon of iniquity I shall spread my wings and soar the echoing forest as I cry, as ravens do, a resounding Evermore!
Sufism: An Inquiry Vol XVII, No. 1