الجمعة، 31 أغسطس، 2012

MEETING GOD


Staying in Hashem is full of tears, literally, image-allerelly, I could not cope with the weeping. I had to make a face of him, so the face is like a martian, kinda whiter with no hair on his head, like the little brahim whose feet were washed by Krishna,

And so I leave Hashem well alone.

I'm not as bad. Just; not as clever.

I struggle to memorise simple arabic verbs.

I got it down! After being in and out, for a week. I've got a new head, it can go out walking and remember what it's read. Naktub, Yaktubuunna, Taktubuuunna Present tense plural, Yaktubna, Taktubna.

I repented the day after Eid Muburak, someone was having a party across the road, playing loud Indian music, and then repeating some European pop-hit with heathen words, obviously.;; obviously stupid heathen words.

I didn't come back to my own knowledge.

I just relaxed.

I didn't want to be seen praying, so when I prostrated in the dark I hummed, and crawled around looking for a pen on the floor.

I sat on stairs outside in the sun, and screwed up Fatihah and Ikhlas.

So I went and washed and got the Koran down from the top of the wardrobe, where it mixes with my notes and the other Korans.

I sat in front of laptop with book on knees. I stuck up an old list on the wall with a flyer of a camel going across the desert, covering a decade - old pencil drawing of a girl in a cloak, hair flying in wind, Exodus scribbled across.

I sat with the Koran on my knees, and spoke to Hashem.

In minutes, well, seconds are minutes to me. I asked for forgiveness. I didn't expect anything.

I swore when I got an answer.
The book became covered in a starry SILVER LIGHT. SO MANY WORDS.

I could see so many words in the parts of the little glitter stars. And without.

Any Black Magic, or Evocations,

From Myself.

I saw;

Two very, very, thin silver arms, with silver hands, grasp the book, opposite me, holding onto the book that I held.

"I don't want to hear you..."

"I can't hear you..."

What I thought was Koran was Death. I didn't understand the words. I didn't like myself. I was dead.

So, I made an effort to hear something;

I heard;

"THIS BOOK IS BEAUTIFUL...AND YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL."

I went outside to smoke. Trying to make something tell me all the words, but refusing to listen.

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