Sense detached to the conventional loss of the concerned fatal flaw that’s shielding the anonymity of deception, as it reins over you. Perceptional wisdom diminishes concreteness of the blessed, parallel to distortion of conceptualization. You are a broken and dismantled soul; of mortal capacity?
Perhaps it is the initiation of selling yourself to an unconcerned phenomenon. Some would argue the merits of devaluing this precautionary power, which so eloquently degrades the rhythmic illusions of desired perfection. It is the desperate persistency of your essence to fill the void and not to further its extraction from the core. If only you could rummage deeper through the glass surface, just to find that oracular faith of absolute existence and break down the walls of unconscious barriers destined to corrupt the fragile moments. And rise above the plateau of this exemplary morality and establish yourself in the midst of the chaotic revolution.
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“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.” Anais Nin
O Shaikh put off your turban when
You’re saying your prayers,
Or else you won’t be able to
Pickup your head from prostrate.
~Mirza Rafi Sauda
Abou Ben Adhem
By Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!
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