a twine of threads



a story about stories
Individual Tales

myriad main

myriad main


this entry appears in

Educating Valan , Magic

myriad themes

Anger Art Belief Desire Destiny & Fate Dreams Drunk & Disorderly Education Families Forgiveness Grief Homosexuality Honesty Inspiration Jealousy Life, Death & Immortality Love Lust Madness Magic Music Myth Past Lives Perspectives Plots & Plans Poetry Politics Power Redemption Restoration Sex Soliloquies & Speeches Starting Over Time Transformation Traveling War!

myriad stories

1001 Steps
Camelot!
Comes Fides
Educating Valan
Genevieve's Pear
Hallelujah
Lineage
Love Changes Everything
My Fair Lady
Return of the King
Summerland
The Doge's Gold
The Holly King
The Oak King
The Rebirth of Slick
Witchy Woman

myriad places

Chennai & Mahabalipuram
Chinon et Lascaux
London
Newgrange
Oregon
Strathfayr and Rosshire
Switzerland
Venice
Wales & Stonehenge

Last Right of Aziz the Great
June 21, 2003
We are at The Nile's end We are carrying particles from every continent and creature and age It has been raining on the plains of our vision for millions of years and our senses are so muddy compared to Yours -- Dear God but I only hear these words from You Where we are all trying to embrace The Clear-Sky-Ocean "Dear One -- come Please -- my dear ones -- come ~ Hafiz ~
     I hear the poet's words in my head, his ecstatic warmth, I must make it my own for Allah I am coming. Aziz is coming at last. Over this earth this three-hundred years have I wandered, solitary nomad, over Your deserts and your valleys cupping Your sweet rain. I have sipped wine in the form of a vampire, I have stepped into the center of a ring of fire in the hollowed heart of diabolical temples. I, Your Child of Dust and Desire, have gone to the places of darkness, the temples of shadows, in pretended forms I have slipped into the devil's covens, but I have in the end become that which I was seeking to destroy for You, O Beloved Allah. Tonight, accept my sacrifice.

I draw a breath as I enscribe this last message, my last poems, my last word and breath upon this earth. It burns into the flame, and so may it be delivered it to my brothers. O, my brothers, please hear me...

     Using a thousand masks, Beloved One, I have gained the secrets that shetan has used, your Adversary, and I have gained it at the cost of my soul. But I deliver it to You, Allah, You Whom I Love above all things, and with my blood...

I cut myself now, and I will bleed into the flame...

     ... I write my testament of faith to you. O, Allah. I commit sin upon sin to deliver a blessing to you. I have given the Adversary's secrets away. I have passed on the power and the knowledge to one of Your Golden Ones. The avatar will deliver it unto You, he will shine a light into the darkness and the evil serpents of shadows will, in the end, be vanquished. So let it be...

The last murmur into the flame ends with the barest of breaths. The robed magician falls to this woven rug with Allah on his lips. Will he go to Heaven? This is for Allah to decide. The soul, the soul can only ever hope.

Posted by rowan at June 21, 2003 09:43 PM