15. Letters in the Sand
All that I know I have read
From letters written in the sand,
And soon lost to the surf and the rising tide.
But that is enough
To make this world now
Alien and strange to me.
Yet no matter how I try,
I cannot decipher the language
Of the birds nor the rustling leaves,
Those sonnets of praise,
Unplugged from the deaf sickness
That afflicts man.
My dear readers,
I am informed that the world in its entirety speaks and praises God. One of my most favourite sound is the sound of leaves and branches rustling in the wind. I find it sweet that the wind needs the trees for us to hear its voice. In return the wind helps to spread the pollen and seed of the trees.
Praises sprung from nature is perfect, but man is a totally different category altogether. We have a choice, and the choices we make either sharpens our hearing or makes us a little (or totally) deaf to the Music of the Universe, Love.
I write about about love. But I am just a scribe. I am actually writing about you and your life. Your endless hours in contemplation, when you walked into my heart and left letters on the shore of my soul. My friend, do not think that you are living your life unnoticed and ineffectual. Every little iota of goodness, every little gesture of kindness and every little thought of compassion we note down. Continue to make a change, sunshine. Even if by doing so, you are making me alien to the illusory world of hate and fear that common mass media perpetuates out of habit and profit.
You make it all worth it. So have a good day, and fill your day with goodness. I will jot them all down, and make a fine story for God the All-Loving.
wa min Allah at-taufiq.