POETRY: Caravan of Joy
By David Fideler

Born from a jasmine breeze
caressing the Straits of Gibraltar,
your dark tresses are still scented
with musk, rose oil, and cardamon spice.

Beyond the deserts burning embers,
the dayҒs conflagration finally surrenders.
Flash and thunderclap release the mercy
of heavens fertilizing rain.

The desert comes alive
with millions of explosions,
rocking worlds within worlds,
echoes of preeternityҒs song.

Devastated by heavens deluge
atoms dissolve and are swept away
as rivulets become tributaries, and tributaries flow together:

Even in the desert,
every drop yearns
to return to the sea.

In my return a visage appears:
your smile eclipses the light of a hundred moons,
your eyes thieve the magic of a million stars.

There you are, standing on twilightҒs boundary,
pointing the way to the hidden shore:
Verdant garden with hidden fountain,
emerald chalice under heavens axis.

There you are, standing on twilightҒs boundary,
Arabian flower of pure womanhood,
rising, falling, and rising again,
focal point of lifes hidden essence.

Falling, rising, and falling again,
witness of divine remembrance:
you nourish all with grace and mercy,
like heavenҒs dewdrops on morning leaves,
glinting mirrors of life’s renewal.

YET ANY HEART MAY BEAR HEAVENS WITNESS җ

* * *

Those who wander in the stinging Wasteland
dont know the path to the hidden oasis,
the secret fountain of eternal life җ
Khidrs wellspring under imperishable stars:
where salted fish spring back to life;
where the waters of paradise now flow freely;
where studious bees gather honey for the nourishment of the world.

HeavenҒs light is ever-present
the time before time still clearly visible ח
when perception is purified
and the inner eye grows strong.

How long will you wander in this desert of illusion and suffering
where the mirages grow harsher and more deranged each day?

Why scrounge for carrion in the shadow of broken ruins
when the sight of Reality can fully be yours?

We have all dwelt too long in the company of vicious, fraudulent, and ungrateful people,
but the way is now clear and the caravan is leaving
for destinations unknown,
for a reality closer than your very soul.

The caravan of joy is leaving with the sound of drums, bells, and singing voices.
So why stay in the guest-house with cutthroat tenants,
cheap plastic kitsch, and nicotine-stained walls?

Something better is calling.

The caravan is leaving under fresh open skies, with trustworthy companions.

Step outside of yourself and your mental afflictions ח
Only then will you see the way;
only then will you join the chorus.

At the break of dawn the caravan is leaving
under the lapis bowl of heaven’s gleaming dome.

The time has come to forsake confinement:

Step outside to know the Real.