25.
the weeping wails found their own extinguishment
within an exhaustion conquered by another sleep
and there it happened
another dream within the dream
the dimension of space disappeared
i, you, me, them, us
no longer existed
no here or there, far or near
no past or present or future
just a moment so pure unto itself
as the question suddenly emerged
are you willing to die before you die
who is the questioner
who is to answer
there was nothing distinct
to distinguish these
yet a reply was given
“yes”
then why are you still grasping to her,
layla...
overlapping was the reply
“layla,
layla is all”
her essence is not bound
to her form in the dream
let go:
to touch but not grasp
let go
of all the dream
and see
her essence
is already one with thee
“i know”
then let go
“i can’t
layla...”
you can
you just refuse
no response
then return to your dream
there is no compulsion in love
reality is always awaiting
when you’re ready to release
let go
and wake up
and so he did
awaken again
the beaming sun beating upon his eyes
all the ravens had departed the sky
to leave him abandoned
and alone
again
awake again
and how this stirred that deep yearning within
for layla,
only layla
a pinning although unfulfilled
which would not be denied
he had drowned long enough
and descended deep enough
into the ocean of the desert
which would only take him
and keep him further away
from his beloved
he had to return to the surface
even if for just a gasp of air
perhaps the sky that greeted his inhalation
would be a welcoming night
oh, layla is the night
the perfect nocturnal reality
* * *
seeking proximity to her
he dashed in whatever direction
he felt was up
whatever way felt like it was opposite
of the pulling gravity of the waters
disoriented by extended submersion
he could only guess which way that was
yet his uncertainty could not yield his passion
in any way
this moment called for movement
invigorated,
he drove forth with all his strength
until her scent was upon his nose
whether it was her actual fragrance or imagined,
it mattered not
it propelled his movement
moving on,
he found the sound of her voice within his ears
not actual words, but the resonance
of her acoustic vibrations
and even her visage appeared in the sands
dancing in the shifting clouds kissing the horizon
inspiration
the laws of dreams are not bound
by our contrived logic
but the fuel of finite illusions is not unlimited
his zest waned to a flicker
his exuberant walk slowed to a crawl
until his limbs wavered in weakness
his every breath became a strain
until he felt he might actually die
and now he began to regret
the invitation he recently declined
to die before he died
but this was only the drama of the dreamscape
playing out through a fatigue that seemed so real
destiny will have its fate play upon the stage
even if the story must be chaotically changed
or rearranged to serve its will
so his breaths began to settle into a relaxed rhythm
despite the onsetting feeling of death
a subtle vivaciousness emerged to expand
ebbing through and beyond his core
suddenly two human figures appeared
two silhouettes moving across the shining sands
as they neared him,
he could see a thin man bound in thick metal chains
the weight of which arched his back
his hair and beard were disarrayed
his body scarred and naked
except for a ragged loin cloth
this bonded man was being led by a fierce
old woman
who kept tugging on the chains to keep
the man apace
to the pity-filled eyes of majnuun
this seemed so inhumane
“has this become a desert of torture
that you treat a man worse than a stray dog”
“what has this to do with you,”
asked the woman
“fate has brought this sight of injustice
before a heart that feels
have you no empathy in your soul”
the woman looked majnuun up and down
“you look as destitute as us
so i’ll tell you the truth
my husband died and left me in inescapable poverty
and this dervish has taken a vow of poverty
since hardship has famished both our plates
we have taken to this extreme
to fill our bellies
he plays the role of a madman
which i drag around in chains
to arouse the sympathy of charity
to collect whatever pittance we can”
“well, let the old man go
his feeble bones have run ragged enough
young ones are better
grant him mercy
in his place, i will follow where you lead
exchange him for an actual madman”
the woman didn’t hesitate one second
to swap the chains
but before they departed
the dervish leaned close to majnuun to whisper
“why did you not let go of this life
when you are so ready
and everything is prepared”
“i live for layla”
“that is but a grain of sand
your troubled mind holds to
what you perceive to be your beloved
is not even a drop of sweat
in this whole desert
let it go
and watch the whole of the beloved
embrace the all of you”
“come, my new madman
the day waits not for where our feet
must wander”
the woman tugged hard on the chains
leading the way
the metal scuffed his leathered wrists
to compel him to follow
her pace was quick and demanding
the shackles heavy without compassion
already regrets began to arise
why did he volunteer
to trade places with the dervish
the feeble old man who had already disappeared
was this a foolish choice on his part
or a twinkling of fate
yet as he surrendered to accept
the conditions he found himself within
his remorse found points of pleasure
as they came across tents
he could be as his madness was
in movement and song
and be appreciated
tent after tent,
sympathies were aroused
which at least gave a semblance of him
being understood
although this deception was staged
it was feeding a woman in need
a fraud yielding charity
* * *
the more the old woman punished him
the more he danced and sang
spontaneous odes of love
springing through his lips
until one day they approached
a traveling caravan
and what his eyes beheld
he could not believe
layla
he could not mistake anyone for her
that beautiful form carrying a tray of food
entered a tent
was it really her
perhaps the heat of another long hot day
was now painting a taunting mirage
within the pre-dusk light
but then he saw her again
layla
exiting the tent
to retrieve a cloth napkin she had dropped
watching her re-enter the tent
was confirmation enough within the dream
that the surface had been reached
after being drowned for so long,
submersed and abused
he had forgotten what it was like to breathe
yet breathe he must,
especially after seeing her
with his own awakened eyes
so he inhaled deeply
perhaps too deep
compelling an exhalation
that let forth as a proclaiming yell
“layla, my layla”
the caravan was thrust into alarm
the old woman froze, confused
a man rushed out of the tent layla had entered
with a sword drawn
he then directed two others
to go and seize the majnuun
but not before another rant of madness
could be exhaled
“look layla,
how i suffer to make amends
for all the slaughter i caused
these chains are real,
so too are my scars
and my broken heart
yet since i know this sin cannot be forgiven
because this body still breathes
please come and execute me with your own hands
oh please, layla, please
“my guilt to thee i confess
and still am i denied thy sweet caress
let me feel thy touch
as my life thou takest
like ismaa’iil, i surrender to ibraahiim’s knife
slit my neck within thy shadow
within thy life-stealing gaze murder me
just don’t let another day pass me by
without feeling thine hands...”
as the men reached the old woman
she tried to prevent them from taking her chains
yet she was easily overpowered
in panic, majnuun screamed
as a supernatural strength emerged
instantly, he ripped the chains to shreds
the rusted metal breaking like dry twigs
before the men could take hold of him
he fled with lightening speed
back into the depths
of the ocean of the desert
but this time he did not proceed
toward the bottomless depths
instead just far enough beneath the surface
where he could hide
until he emerged again for another breath
and perhaps another grasp at his beloved
unbeknownst to him
layla heard every word from within the tent
and would have had her eyes join audience
with her ears
had not her newly wed husband
blocked her exit
in her being
she longed to fulfill majnuun’s wish
to murder him with her loving embrace
a killing that would have spilt no blood
nor denied him any breath
nor impeded in any way his precious vitality
and yet,
if he still happened to die within her arms
she would have resurrected his repented body
with adulterous kisses
if only if...
but did i not say
layla’s newly wed husband
her fate continued to unfold
even while he was drowning
to explain the details of what occurred
we should return to the day
of nawfal’s victory
❍ ● ❍