* The First Call

I love your hands,

because I have smelled the strength that could wash the dust off my miserable heart…

I love your lips,

because I have felt the warmth of the kisses of your utterance…

Kisses that have entered the sweet book of my memories…

Kisses that were the sign of a beginning…

a beginning that I hoped would never end…

…when you said:

“O ye people that have minds to know and ears to hear!

The first call of the Beloved is this…”

And you whispered in my ear…

so sweetly…

so kindly…

That you could hear the lamentation of my heart…

and you would recognise the melody of my voice…

When you called me by name: “O mystic nightingale”

And exhorted me now…

and warned me again:

“Abide not but in the rose-garden of the spirit…”

And I ran far away from myself,

perchance to unite with you in your eternity…

but what I found in this flight was a losing of myself…

and how pretty that loss was!!!

And in my quest, my fist knocked at every door…

how brave,

perchance finding a path to your presence…

perchance tasting the scent of your kisses yet again…

how hopeful!!!

Alas, I have not found you… not yet…

Alas, I have not tasted the pleasure of your kisses…

not again…

Perhaps the fire of my desire was impeding my progress… perhaps

Perhaps the bends on my path were fading their colours… were they?

Perhaps the road to that rose garden was covered with thorn and weed… was it?

Perhaps the butterfly of my imagination was trapped in the web of fear

that was weaved before the treasure of your mysteries… was it?

Perhaps your kisses were held captive behind your lips… perhaps…

Perhaps your voice got lost amongst the murmurs of disbelief…

Even though, you were yearning aloud:

“…Abide not but in the rose-garden of the spirit…”

And my heart, as the hoopoe of the Solomon of your love,

had desired to fly over your valley…

And the wings of my hope were flapping in anticipation of you,

while the apex of their flight wished to reach the bounty of your arms…

And my longing hands were tying ribbons of prayer to the gate of

the palace of your mysteries,

…when you called out:

“O messenger of the Solomon of love! Seek thou no shelter

except in the Sheba of the well-beloved…”

Hence, I asked myself of your mysteries…

and searched for the purity of the scent of your kisses…

and I pondered upon the points that were uttered through your sighing lips…

and I longed to merge with them over and over again…

and I gathered the seeds of wisdom from the roof of your abode…

and I crawled on my chest towards the valley where you were…

and I chose to be faithful to your cause…

Perchance, I could find my way to the mount of the phoenix of your eternity…

Perchance, my promiscuous heart could take refuge

within the citadel of your love,

…when I heard your uproar:

“and O immortal phoenix! dwell not save on the mount of faithfulness…”

And when I arrived at the acme of my faith in you,

I left the shell of self behind…

and I found my soul merging with yours,

…regretting my wishes…

…ashamed of my desires…

But still wishing you… you… and no-one but you…

Still searching for you… you… and even more of you…

So I was ascending to the realm of your being on high…

When I heard your voice yet again:

“Therein is thy habitation”

And in desperation,

I tore the warp of my life

from the weft of my existence…

and I destroyed the nest of any desire but yours…

and I ran away from my homeland

to the unknown city of the covenant with you…

…when I set my mind upon reaching my ordained destination…

And when I disrobed myself of the garment of my homeland

and slipped into the shelter of your body…

and when I extended the wings of my soul across the sky of your dwelling…

…you whispered in my ear:

“…,if on the wings of thy soul thou soarest to the realm of the infinite and seekest to attain thy goal.”

Parvaneh Farid http://www.latelierpapillon.co.uk/
Quotations from “The Hidden Words” http://pfarid.blogspot.com/2007/12/hidden-words.html