Dervish
We sit quietly beneath the Earth, hushed within a
hollowed cavern
facing an empty central circle, and shiver in the dark,
dimly-lit,
anticipating the coming mystic rite
Four figures enter, heads bowed, black-cloaked, hats like
tombstones
dervish-devout, focused upon drum, pipe, and strings
improvising, building slowly to steady, hypnotic rhythm
calming the air around them
The semazen arrive, arms criss-crossed, testifying the
unity of God
intoning Qu’ranic eulogy to the Prophet, their delicate
first movements
salaaming with care and exactitude, performing sufic rite
describing the spiritual journey towards a new perfection
man’s submission of ego, annihilation of self to God
and ascension towards an ecstasy
the very rapture of being
Black cloaks cast aside reveal the ego-shrouds, white
skirts of Mevlana
and, slowly, the turning itself begins, revolving right
to left around the heart
turning ever-faster into whirling, like the blood around
the body
protons in the atom, their own steady orbit around space
arms spread widely open, one hand pointed up towards the
sky
the other back down towards the Earth
connecting God with Man
Eyes closed in concentration, heads inclined upon their
shoulders
in the spirit, in the moment, submerged in love
the spinning circulation frenzied for a while, then
finished
before returning silently to their cells for further
contemplation
and quiet meditation
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