3000 Nights the Wailing of Love in Her Breath

She beholds the stars. She shines like the moon. She delves deeper into the darkness of the black trees. She wanders the forest alone tonight. She feels a supreme power lingering in the air around her. A world speaks to her behind the visible. She grasps the reason why the wind is blowing, the night is falling, the heart is beating, and the eyes are beholding. A grand symphony is sounding in her ears and her whole body is immersing in the sound waves of nature. She is free from everything weighing heavily on her soul. She is like a small, pure and fragile bird who courageously conquers the heights of the sky. Who could have ever thought that this little and helpless being could almost reach the heights of the stars on its own? The language of the birds is the language of God. The poems of the singing bird are the lost poems of the human soul in the reckless pursuit of world affairs. She wants to sing, too. She wants to sing the song of the lonely bird playing with the wind and the trees. Her hair merges with the darkness of the night and in her eyes thousand gardens of roses blossom with secret paths into the maze of love. 

For more than three thousand nights she weaved the robe of love. Three thousand nights her blood was the ink of the nightingale’s feather which wrote divine poems on the robe of love. Three thousand nights the wailing of love in her breath touched the night wind and made the robe of love dance. Three thousand nights the thread of loyalty grew like ivy on the walls of her heart. Three thousand nights the robe of true love protected her heart and her soul from the broken glass of craving. Three thousand nights her love sank deeper and deeper into the ocean of love and music. Three thousand nights have torn apart time and space through the musical tempest of her heartbeat. Three thousand nights of painful prayers have given her spiritual beauty the gift of three thousand stars. 

The raindrops kiss her red lips and unite with the tears running down her cheeks. A fresh breeze uplifts her soul, and she scents the stories of the past in the perfumes of the dark night. She knows that no love and no pain is in vain. No emotion and no thought are ever erased from the colorful painting of nature. When she looks at the mountain the cry of hope in all her prayers come alive. When she looks at the moon the secrets of God and of human existence are revealed to her soul. When the rain is mercilessly pouring down, she knows that her painful prayers have reached God and heaven is bearing testimony to her soul’s grief. When she touches the dust, she can feel the story of her love buried deep down and safe in the book of sand sealed with the hand of God.  Somewhere in the sky she can find the connection to her past. A past full of secrets. A divine gaze right into the hearts of your friends or enemies. A revelation by God Almighty beyond physical dimensions. Visions of deep truth, heart and soul enrich her very own soul with divinity. This is her secret of life. This is her paradise. This is her door to happiness. To die before death, to let go of the golden life, to behold the universe inside you and to love with the eternity of Arabian sand. The night’s shining stars of past lovers, prophets and saints become the diamonds of her robe of love. The past stories become the revealed symphonies sounding in her ears. The visions of heart and mind pave the Sufi path for her right into the secrets of human soul. Her grief and her tears unite hearts with the power of ocean waves. The bird’s music and poems are parting from her lips with the stamp of her lips’ blood. Her robe of love is dancing for eternity in the hidden worlds, beyond time and space, in the secret treasure chest of God.