after the fighting

That presence had invited me to its silence to feel the breath of life in its subtle rhythm. Awakening my soul to feel the longing for the Savior, I could hear my heart pray,
"Come again, come again, come again."

After the fighting had ended, back in the mountain where I used to live before the war, a friend of mine came to visit. He invited me to go to a friend's new farmhouse, where he made artistic pottery, for a cup of tea and a cup of good company. I'd like to mention to you, Abu noor, that my friend the potter, who had a great artistic talent could not make a living selling his artwork. So for a living he was making a small doll out of clay representing the identities of those people who were fighting on the different sides of animosity. And strangely enough, that was what the people would buy from him in great numbers. This beautiful and wise potter told me, "You see, my friend Yaron, I make beautiful people out of clay and there is a rule that I must follow. They have to be hollow. And they can never receive the breath of living. As I take them out of the oven's womb and the clay is hardened, I laugh at how much people love their identities and how they become hollow and break so easily just as these clay dolls. It is very sad indeed."

The potter said, "Let me tell you about a beautiful boy who came from a far land propelled by an amazing love for people saying that there is a beauty within the silence of every heart, of every human being who is alive." Hearing these words, I broke up in joyful tears shouting "He's here, he's here, he's here!" Extreme joy filled me instantly and I was back floating in the river of life's natural intoxication. My soul was lit.

Now I am completely awake and alive laughing and dancing with joy. Death could not stand my company. Death did not like to come close around me anymore. I began to laugh even more. Now I was totally in love for that silent presence became so known to me I began to hear its melody play in my heart. The inner dance moves me all around. My wheelchair had become a chariot with no limitations. Even the pain and the spasms have quieted down.

That little boy, you see, gave me the ultimate gift. He showed me where the lock is and he showed me where I lost my key and he said, "Simply, open and be. Go home and see... live in the palace of life where death could never come. For the light inside shines without any oil to burn."