NOT A ROOM FULL OF GOLD AND TREASURE

Not a room full of gold and treasure
Not one hundred slaves at your ready
To bring you pleasure
Not silks and furs and pillows of down
For your total leisure
Are worthy of your presence
Your being is kissed softly
By perfumes and scents
But they do not add to your beauty
For perfect is infinite
You are that and so much more
Angel of the desert
Rose of the garden
Flower of my soul
I am not worthy of you
When you smile
Doves fly above the desert
In wild exultation
When you cry
Ravens call from dying trees
And in all the world
Dreams die
That you might love me
Gives me wings
Able to be wild
Rather than tamed
That you might call my name
Gives me hope
The kind about that angels sing
The kind that lets my heart rise up
Instead of being lamed
By my being
So unworthy
The hope of you alone
Redeems me
Fully
Completely

It stands in Rub' al Khali

A plume of sand raises and twists
In the midst of the Rub' al Khali
Where nothing except nothing exists
The winds of desert carry dust
And the heat sucks air from lungs
Nothing living can survive there
Where the bleak landscape drowns life
No faerie songs are sung
The only sound that thrives
Is that of blowing sands and wind
And blazing heat
No life can be wrung
From a land selfishly dry
Selfishly hot
In the center of nothing
Where life is prohibited by the waste
Stands a tall citadel and structure
Made entirely of gold
The halls luxurious with fibers
Untrodden by feet with shoes
The walls decorated with tapestries
Made of silk and gold and perfect hues
No one knows who made it
The knowledge solely possessed by eternity
It stands where life shouldn’t be
And offers succor to the weak

Chapter One

"Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving — it doesn't matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times,
Come, come again, come."

Rumi