Does anyone else have difficulty with finding an appropriate title for their posts? The majority of mine loiter expectantly, try to catch my eye and impress with their marketing ploys. This one lingers in the background reticently and then fixes me with a hypnotic gaze. I’m intrigued and beckon them to come forward.
They exude a sense of melancholy and passion. What are they going to reveal? I’m given hints of old roses, musk, sandalwood, myrrh and honey. Other scents are carried on winds that have swept in from parched lands waiting for the kiss of rain. A romantic image to be sure, yet it captures the imagination like a lover’s gaze.
I see a red rose placed on a leather-bound book. An offering worthy of the attentions of one’s heart. Fingers gently open the pages and alight on a particular page. The words shimmer and invite further exploration. A hand hovers above the beautifully crafted composition. These are wise words from the Persian Sufi poet Hafiz (Khwāja Šamsu d-Dīn Muḥammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī):
The breath catches in the throat and I acknowledge the truth of what he says. The sleeping beauty of one’s heart flutters like the wings of a caged bird; sings its song of sepia memories, emotion filled and pained. Hands glide over the chest and pull away the thornless rambling rose. There is no sacrifice to be made on this occasion, no drops of blood offered for the transmutation. The alchemy has already begun.
Hands caress the sleeping heart, waken it from a deep sleep, kiss away hurts, offer up potent perfumes and heady wines. Love is lavished upon the wakened beauty, and a world of Light poured upon the sacred altar in its innermost being. So it begins, it is purified and made whole, ready to glide over the vastness of a world waiting on its presence. So it begins, the breath of life taken inwards, initiating new purpose.
So it begins, a story of endless corridors in a mansion filled with sunlight. A place of whispered conversations and unbridled laughter. Hear the flutter of doves’ wings and water cascading from fountains. Truly a place of paradisiacal beauty.
The imagination is captured in a lover’s gaze and the Story is written. Is there more to come?
I was initially finding it quite difficult to come up with something meaningful. Several versions were scrapped and on the last attempt the words were thrown down like a carpet of petals. What a relief!
So ends the Story, a promise is fulfilled and a writer’s thirst quenched.