I am Stranger in the Mist of a Forgotten Dream - Trying to wake up...

262. One Day, a Dervish Spoke to Me
You have two eyes,

But attend to the third,

You have but two ears,

So attend to the third.

And where is the third you ask?

It is your one heart,

So attend to the one heart.

It is a subtle surgery,

But it is the One Lord Himself

Who is at hand to attend to you,

So free yourself of doubt,

For it is better that the Lord

Is within your heart than without.

And indeed, you are being deceived

If you think that He is not within you at all.

This things, I recall as I walk along

The footpaths of your soul,

Beneath the eaves of the Prophet’s mantle

And by the shore of a forgotten dream

That is you.

Recall, and remember!

For if you cannot remember your own self,

We, the dervishes, certainly do!

We are little currents of Divine electricity circulating in the Imagination of God. We are poetry being written by the Pen of Creation, held by the Will of God. We are all this but also ghosts shackled by this physical world because we simply forget our connection to the Creator. The Reality of God and His Prophet has become a Forgotten Dream. We hear whispers of it in the beautiful smile of our child, in the gentle guidance of our fathers and mothers, in the patience of our friends, and in the unexpected kindness of a stranger by the roadside. We hear it in the murmuring of prayers and recitation of the holy scriptures by the true devout...

How many more hints, clues and signs do we need to receive before we tear through the veil of this Forgotten Dream, and bring the Kingdom of God into our hearts? 

The dervishes have not forgotten, but I have been so forgetful, sunshine. For all these 41 years of my life I am ashamed to say that I too can only hear whispers of Him in the murky mist of a Forgotten Dream. Help me become a fit servant, and forgive my trespass and impatience. Perhaps with you guiding me, I shall be able to follow your exemplary light through the mist of this world, to finally pass through the veil and fairy tales of our physical world.

I may not know your name, pet. But I still need your shining conduct to guide me safely through the mist and past the bridge. So never say you do not matter. You matter to me.

God bless your Friday.

Pax Taufiqa.