"What of the King?"You ask.
" What of his Kingdom? " Is my reply.
Had I not sojourned in this desert I would have never known! What of this coolness that touches my skin and the rash of thoughts that grace this skull with homages and vestiges to the one great God? The Kaaba.
The Kaaba is not a structure, it is not a place, it is not a destination, it cant be defined, it cant be touched, it cant be seen, it can only be. I am the Kaaba.
"But I see you?" you ask childlike.
"Do you see me?" I reply and draw your face closer to mine until our noses almost touch and our eyes are all each other can see. "Do you see me now?" I ask.
"Past the Vail of time constructed by the Creators creation for creators must. Through the swamps of history of wars and peace of tragedies and triumphs every death every birth every age every face every breath every mineral of star explosions deep infinate space of minds through the prayers through the meals of all living things both seen and unseen" I pull you away and touch your third eye with my finger and you are awaken you from your sleep."
Whispering you fall to your knees " My son"
Whispering I fall to join you "Father"
" I love you Father with my whole being, but how can this world of tragedy be a reflection of me when all I have ever felt is at peace with you? How can this war of your children be my Kingdom? What has become of paradise? Was I wrong all along? What do I know? I sell homes but I cannot sell the Kingdom. I live in the desert where I cant find the door."
No comments:
Post a Comment