Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Prophet and the Sinner with the Silver Pen

88. Dear sirs
Dear sirs,
I am a stranger in this land,
And I am looking for my Master.

They say he has died,
Oh, what a foul lie which
They permit their lips
To utter!

Dear sirs,
I am a stranger in this land,
If you know of my Master,
If you know of his whereabouts,
Take me to him, please,

For he is keeping something of mine,
My name, my honey, my sword
And a lantern that burns bright,
Through a fire which burns white
And luminous without need
Of kindling or fuel.

It was Wednesday, the 23rd day of March 2011, when I stepped foot unto the blessed soil of Medina, City of my Master, Muhammad Habibullah. It was the most difficult thing for me to contemplate that finally, I am here. After years of yearning and writing, after years of composing foolish poems that is trying to put into words what cannot be put into words - The love and longing for this man called Muhammad, the clearest and sweetest tears which is forever falling from the eyes of my betters, forming a lake in the valley of souls. There I could see all sorts of angels and heavenly beings take their water, delighting in the manifest love between the Prophet and His Nation. Between Muhammad and you...

Of course, the Master has passed away. There is his Raudah (Tomb of the Prophet) in the Nabawi Mosque, Medina which I myself have visited. But although he has left his physical shell all those many years ago, he is not dead to me. He is very much alive, and I cannot stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, I feel shameful to share these silly feelings. But what am I here for if not to remember and write? And what you do, sunshine - to give your time to me and read whatever is posted in this almanac, that too is no coincidence. For the first fatality in the accident that men call Love is coincidence. After Love - all chance meetings become fate, and all coincidences become our destiny.

When you arrive in your ennobled station, do not forget me, my readers. Pray for the sinner with the silver pen.

Have a lovely day, my friends. Help me make my life worthy of your friendship.

Pax Taufiqa.

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