The Wings of the Simorgh

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