Speaking of Out-lopes and marvels made
Let me rake up the past to lay bare
The memory of the back trail I traveled before
Riding colt of the best Arabian breeds
With the speed of a bullet, every which way,
Leaving the swelling dust of the years fading far behind
On the road leading to the bounds into the heart of space
To probe the psalms preached, the deserts proclaimed
Heedless of hazards distance or fate
Crossing the zone of my vernal days, I was hesitant
Being still caged by the darkest arena of mind
Fighting the wisdom of heaven by self conceit
Having refused to wear the turban or be a prelate
The time I was young and apt to be pompous and great
Crossing the zone of doubt still determined
To explore the regions of being to find
The map of dreams concerted by the sages of yore
Spotting the workshop where the miracles of thought
Are devised and shaped into scriptures revealed
By messages with passengers sent
For the world to distill the spirit and decide
How to prepare for the distance of travel ahead.
Crossing the zone of contemplation
The time I was still diddled by the assumption of airs
Yet with the touch of faith I began to realize
That a kindled hope of youth
Is so often lost in smoke
And that the world cannot be lifted
By the thin thread of a kite
Crossing over the zone of memory to the now
With the reins drooping slowly in my hands
I began to feel that life is nothing but
A cursory glance, caged by the bars of age,
And now hooded by wrinkles speeding to halt
At the dam raised by the boulders of time
I haven’t failed to tear the progeny of my hopes
With the growing certitude to unearth
The hidden fountain of faith.
So wonder not, my friend,
To have seen me yesterday still looking
At the back of beyond,
A shadow cross, cruising o’er my head,
Breathing message I caught, shivered and woke up
To find myself genuflecting on the floor
With my hands raised toward heaven
When I heard the soothing voice of the Muezzin
And the harmonious melody of the chiming bells.