Friday, September 23, 2011
The carpenters and the masons rush about the temple grounds.
Each board and each stone placed so carefully.
The dervish procession streams by.
Their music and song an invitation to leave this dusty job site.
And drown in the disordered heart of the Beloved One.
The crowd jeers as the Dervish steps up to the old dry well.
She only smiles, and drops the bucket into the shallow blackness.
Deeper, the rope unfurls. The container falls into the opening void.
Stars swim in the sweet dark water, as all remember the one true thirst.