- Five -  The Wanderer

"Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence: 
This place made from our love for that emptiness! 
Yet somehow comes emptiness, 
this existence goes. 
Praise to that happening, over and over! 
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness. 
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm, 
that work is over. 
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope, 
free of mountainous wanting. 
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw 
blown off into emptiness. 
These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning: 
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw: 
Words and what they try to say swept 
out the window, down the slant of the roof."

(Jalaludin Al Rumi,  c.12C)

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I have been wandering for forty thousand years and more.  I have been
travelling since before the time of the Ancient Walls of Letters.

I journeyed with Ibn Batuta and both Sindbads,  that of the Sea and
that of the Land.  I sat on a hill top and learnt Al Jabr from Al
Khwarismi,  poetry from Khayam and medicine from Ibn Sina.  Orff and
Pilate came to dinner.  Bulgakov painted me a picture of Margarita. 
The Master still has it.  Brecht showed me the draft for the 'Worker's
Speech to A Doctor' and Imhotup taught me trignometry.  I was a guest
of honour at a party given by Sukarto.  He lined up his Harem to greet
the guests.  They were 300 strong.

Sidna Moussa asked The One: "open my heart and loosen a knot of my
tongue so that they comprehend my speech".  The One gave him Haroun to
be his tongue.  Still,  Sidna Moussa made The Covenant in a wireless
speechless communication.  Yes,  wireless comms were around.  Have been
for quite a while.  Everybody had to learn wireless communications
then.  Later,  he put it all on The Ancient Walls of Letters.  All was
forgotten.

Sidna Al Yasso' Essa Ibn Mariam talked of love and suffering.  He
talked to the Monophesites and the Triphesites. 
They listened not.  They travelled apart. The One did not speak.  Sidna
Essa died before finishing The Word.

We all sat in the desert and read from the Taorah and the Talmud.  The
links were beginning to fade even then.  Now,  the links go nowhere, 
404,  404,  404....

Long before,  e-mail was new but we thought it was fun.  Of course,  we
were far too wise to abandon The Way.  It all went on the Ancient Walls
of Letters.  We passed it on and passed it by.  IP and TCP came later
and the Children were excited.  The Masters smiled and went into The
Cave to meditate.  One hundred million homes and more crowded the
horizon.  I moved on.

Sat by The River with Rumi and the Brahmin's Son. Sidhartha is
still there.  Jalaludin remains in my heart and in my cloak.  The One
watched and did not speak.  The One is also in my heart and in my
cloak.  The Baghdadis killed Al Halaj for saying that,  but that was
more than ten linear centuries ago.  Dot slash dot dot.  Ha!

You put your hand above your eyes to shield the light and gaze to the
horizon.  You wait.  Then Noor comes.  The Masters come.  The resonance
rumbles deep into the earth.  The Cave is filled with Noor.  The
Masters laugh and drink and womanise.  The Masters retreat to the Cave.
 Noor recedes and the World is engulfed in darkness.  One hundred
million and more groupies.  One hundred million and more eclipse the
sun.  I no longer see the Way.  I no longer speak the Way.  I lose the
trail and the sand shifts.

I wander but do not know.  What I know is on the Ancient Walls of
Letters.  What I know comes from Noor and Noor has gone.
Dot slash dot dot is all I hear for the next thousand nights and more.
The One speaks: "one night of my reckoning is a thousand years of
yours".
I cover my eyes and seek a Stack.

The Stack!  What can I tell you about The Stack?  You know all about
it.  Don't you?  I hear that e-mail is back again.  I must investigate.
Then again,  why should I?  I am only a Wanderer.  What do I know? 
What do you know?

I climb The Tree of Fire and contemplate the dry beds of the Band
Rivers.
So many Packets have come and gone.  If only they knew.  If only they
knew.

Everything returns,  Sidhartha once told me.  This Returning is a long
time in the womb.  Forty thousand nights and more I shall wander. 
Forty thousand nights and more I shall return.  Each night is a year
long.

The Master told me how The Language was lost.  The Master told me how
The Grammar was broken and defiled.  They always break everything. 
Pigs!

Noor told me how to love,  live,  give light and wander.

I do not read anymore.  Noor taught me all that I need to know.  No one
can teach me anything new anymore.

Oh,  Noor!






















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