The Wings of the Simorgh

The trees stood gallantly against the riverbed, as they watched over the small village and its people, the villagers respected the forest which hosted them, as the forest was millennia older than them. Villagers used the trees for food, from Brazil nuts to Coconuts, the bounties of hte trees helped feed the village. The bushy palms even surrender their hearts to the villagers, as the people feast on the Lover's source They used other trees as timber, to build homes that sheltered their families from the rains, and to build the boats that sent them pulsing through the tributaries  like cells pulsing through the body. But as time passed, The villagers began to lose respect of the forest their forefathers taught them. And as the machetes and saws came to the villages, Paths were cut through the virgin forests, a deep wound that could only fester and cause death to the entire jungle. As each tree was brutally slain by steel, the trees all swayed in a united sadness,

The small bird sings,  as it calls and croons to its lover, the frog laughs at the birds desparate plea, for it to understands the plight of the bird. As the rains fall upon the weaved thatched roof of the native homes, the spider lies under the steps, hiding from the dancing rains, as they bounce off the roof, landing on the collection of leaves laying on the forest floor. The colorful flowers of the banana trees, entrances the playful monkey, as it with friends, makes its ways to feast on the fruits, the tree has spent months to produce. All this happens while the ever-watchful sun looks down upon its subjects, as kings observe their own. Even at night, the sun's vizier, the moon, keeps the wilderness of the Amazon at work.

The City surrounded by three Rivers, No need for a moat, ast there are no roads going in and out, Iquitos is the beating heart, the small veins that run through it are bursting with motorkars, each like a blood cell all pulsing. Without the rivers, Iquitos would be nothing, without Iquitos, the rivers would be virgin like Lover and Beloved, Iquitos longs for the wet embrace of the Forest. And when the rain arrives, Iquitos opens His arms, and lets her amazonian rains through, the tin roofs and plaster walls. As the Peruvian people live each day at the mercy of the rivers around them, they give thanks to that which gives them the wealth of the city.

The pilgrims sailed down the river, With swollen egos and false expectations of what awaited them on their journey, Nothing could prepare them for the darkness within the depths of the forest. As their flashlights shined into the dense tree line along the coast, Corneas of many colors and sizes reflected light back, However dark it appeared, the forest was alive. As their vessel made its way through the twists and turns of the ancient River, The great river seemed like it would never end. Navigating against the flow of the river, the pilgrims were on a path towards its very source, Where the rumored treasures hidden long ago still rested.  But their path was not an easy one, Many had tried before them to reach this paradise within the jungle, The life-source of the river itself.  The Captain of the riverboat, A veteran sailor of the river which he had made his home, he had lead many excursions into the river, however even he had not traveled as deep as

A fish without water is like a Lover without its Beloved, Each breath may be its last,  As it tosses and turns,  Its soft dying moans long to once again become one with its source. Like the fish in the ocean,  The Lover floats in the ebb and flow of the Beloved's Grace, And when Lover is separated like the fish taken from the sea, Its remembrance of its Beloved gives it the will to survive. Although the meditating Lover may sit alone in silence, know that He is not alone! The memories of the Beloved's whispers bring him joy, the Image of the Beloved engrained in his thoughts brings a smile to his face, And the breeze through the doorway brings the scent of the Beloved's sweet scent. Although their separation may be physical,  spiritually they are tangled in a web of thoughts, with all of his thoughts consumed with the Beloved, not even the sight of another with his Beloved can extinguish his fiery desire. The Lover must become the f

Your presence is intoxicating Only when I see You The overwhelming feeling of Love makes me drunk with thoughts of You As a drunkard remembers his last drink. Only when I am immobilized from this Love do I feel alive As it is Your heart giving mine a reason to beat. In this Love, Any thoughts of I or Me have been relinquished, As all that truly exists is You, This cosmic unity that seems to have brought us together Is just a façade, We have never been apart, As my soul while searching for You, Looked in all the wrong places, Our souls have always been One, In a place where time or space cannot separate Us. Although I may not be lying next to the Beloved, Our souls are dancing in this cosmic play, Where only silence is the song to which We move.