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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