I leave a cloak patched with vivid scenes of recent witnessing by eyes filled with tears of gratitude. Tears that trickle as beads of a tasbih falling over a wrinkled landscape of memories and attempted efforts of obedience. A cloak embroidered with threads spun from hearts assembled as they were before time and space echoing the very same resplendent chorus in Tawhid major.
The black net of night bulges with a bulging moon, inebriated from this recently passed spectacle of fasting worshippers, filling the horizon as a quivering shimmer as if the entire collections of stars had been sprinkled over the pristine marble. A glistening repetitive reverie at the Almighty’s command.
Weird and wonderful splashes of colour decorate the surface of this rainbow hued cloak. Superman leaps from tall pillars facing the Dome chasing a cute Tinkerbell type angel whose sparkly dress is aglow with pixie dust. A stooped grandpa bends as a kiss is gently placed on his hollow cheek, innocence instantly plucked akin to a rose bud delivering a romantic message of love. The rattle of cans in a sack being dragged by a grimy and dishevelled wanderer adorn the edges as jangly metallic trims. His gnarled hands rummage in bins searching for more to add to his collection. He momentarily stops in front of the Dome, salutes, and then shuffles off.
A blue, brown army chanting praises glides as a wave made from the pure essence extracted from kernels of joy. Smiles so honest and true seem to melt every atom for miles and years, reducing all animate matter to a honeyed mass of adoration.
Scrawny, beady-eyed cats waddle off a production line that seems to refuse to acknowledge quotas, peer from this huge Madian cloak. They slink by impervious to reality, until a tentative pat transfixes them into a statue, or children chase and torment them with silver guns, baseball bats and wayward maneuvers with their roller skates and runaway baby buggies.
Shiny satiny sections of this cloak glimmer with an eerie midnight light, revealing shadowy shapes of men polishing brass, replacing water containers, twirling monster machines, wielding an artillery of brooms, sticks and mops, riding chrome scooters, bicycles and tricycles while others cruise in the anti-vice matchbox car. All perched on this huge rotating ball as circus acrobats. So securely stitched that none of us fall off. Our falling is not of the physical kind.
I dream of sitting wrapped in this cloak, hoping by looking long enough and hard enough at the deep emerald gem that is the abode of the Prince of Creation SallAllahu alaihi wasallam that all will dissolve into the One.
Instead I momentarily leave this cloak as I seek to stretch out for the Hand of Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala as I circumambulate His House.
Labayk Allahumma Labayk
Makkah: STOP PRESS
The top ten floors of the under construction Hagar Tower, part of the Abraj al-Bayt ablaze last night. Arab News site is down as I edit this, but if you check it later you may read the details. Alhumdulillah there were no serious injuries or deaths.
All good is from Allah Ta’ala whereas mistakes are from this humble speck. May Allah Ta’ala Bless all readers, bringing you all closer to Him and His Rasul SallAllahu alaihi wasallam. May He accept our humble efforts and grant us the capacity to be good and do good. Ameen.