Am I Majnun,
The yearning,
The lover?
Or am I Layla,
The night,
The sought?
Or am I,
In truth,
Neither?
Like a moonlight
Illuminating and
Caressing the skin
Of two lovers entwined?
Anonymous save as
A silent witness in
The brief moments
That Layla and
Majnun appears
In my moonlight,
Lovers reunited
And reconciled,
Appearing like stars
Upon the Balcony of Union,
Set in the Tower of Meanings,
Which is surrounded
By the Seas of Creation,
And bathed by
A glorious moonlight
Made glorious
By the sighs of Layla
And the gaze of Majnun,
A light given meaning,
When once there was
No meaning, where once
There was no one
To bear witness and
None to understand.
Only an hour or so is left of Ramadhan, sunshine. Soon the Moon of Syawal shall be upon us. This is a prose recorded in the month of Syawal, some 3 years ago. We are all perhaps like Majnun, a dervish of love, drifting in the wilderness of our 'right' and 'wrong' conclusions. And after a long doom, we find Love beneath the tree of compassion, and we ask Love, "Lord, we are thirsty. Tired of our own reckoning... please give unto us Your mercy..."
Upon this late hour, the sinner wishes all his brethren, all the Eves and Adams, all his brothers and sisters in the unity of worship of the One God, Eid Mubarak!
Pax Taufiqa
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