She impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left an eternal smile of fulfillment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was left save parchments and papers which the poet had strewn about with bitter futility.

Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseased slumber of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honor of that poet, whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man’s ignorance!

Peace

THE TEMPEST calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of the lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature’s war had never been fought.

At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, “Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong. Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is thine own son, from the foe, who is thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death’s door; let him see me, or come and take me to him.”

Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in bandage soaked with escaping life.

He approached her with a greeting of tears and laughter, then took her hand and placed against it his flaming lips. And with a voice which bespoke past sorrow, and joy of union, and uncertainty of her reaction, he said, “Fear me not, for I am the object of your plea. Be glad, for Peace has carried me back safely to you, and humanity has restored what greed essayed to take from us. Be not sad, but smile, my beloved. Do not express bewilderment, for Love has power that dispels Death; charm that conquers the enemy. I am your one. Think me not a specter emerging from the House of Death to visit your Home of Beauty.

Do not be frightened, for I am now Truth, spared from swords and fire to reveal to the people the triumph of Love over War. I am Word uttering introduction to the play of happiness and peace.”

Then the young man became speechless and his tears spoke the language of the heart; and the angels of Joy hovered about that dwelling, and the two hearts restored the singleness which had been taken from them.

At dawn the two stood in the middle of the field, contemplating the beauty of Nature injured by the tempest. After a deep and comforting silence, the soldier looked to the east and said to his sweetheart, “Look at the Darkness, giving birth to the Sun.”

The Criminal

A YOUNG man of strong body, weakened by hunger, sat on the walker’s portion of the street stretching his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating the sad song of his defeat in life, while suffering from hunger and from humiliation.

When night came, his lips and tongue were parched, while his hand was still as empty as his stomach.

He gathered himself and went out from the city, where he sat under a tree and wept bitterly. Then he lifted his puzzled eyes to heaven while hunger was eating his inside, and he said, “Oh Lord, I went to the rich man and asked for employment, but he turned away because of my shabbiness; I knocked at the school door, but was forbidden solace because I was empty-handed; I sought any occupation that would give me bread, but all to no avail. In desperation I asked alms, but Thy worshippers saw me and said, “He is strong and lazy, and he should not beg.”

“Oh Lord, it is Thy will that my mother gave birth unto me, and now the earth offers me back to you before the Ending.”

His expression then changed. He arose and his eyes now glittered in determination. He fashioned a thick and heavy stick from the branch of the tree, and pointed it toward the city, shouting, “I asked for bread with all the strength of my voice, and was refused. Now I shall obtain it by the strength of my muscles! I asked for bread in the name of mercy and love, but humanity did not heed. I shall take it now in the name of evil!”

The passing years rendered the youth a robber, killer, and destroyer of souls; he crushed all who opposed him; he amassed fabulous wealth with which he won himself over to those in power. He was admired by colleagues, envied by other thieves, and feared by the multitudes.

His riches and false position prevailed upon the Emir to appoint him deputy in that city—the sad process pursued by unwise governors. Thefts were then legalized; oppression was supported by authority; crushing of the weak became commonplace; the throngs curried and praised.

Thus does the first touch of humanity’s selfishness make criminals of the humble, and make killers of the sons of peace; thus does the early greed of humanity grow and strike back at humanity a thousandfold!

The Playground of Life

ONE HOUR devoted to the pursuit of Beauty

And Love is worth a full century of glory

Given by the frightened weak to the strong.

From that hour comes man’s Truth; and

During that century Truth sleeps between

The restless arms of disturbing dreams.

In that hour the soul sees for herself

The Natural Law, and for that century she

Imprisons herself behind the law of man;

And she is shackled with irons of oppression.

That hour was the inspiration of the Songs

Of Solomon, and that century was the blind

Power which destroyed the temple of Baalbek.

That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the

Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of

Palmyra and the tower of Babylon.

That hour was the Hegira of Mohammed, and that

Century forgot Allah, Golgotha, and Sinai.

One hour devoted to mourning and lamenting the

Stolen equality of the weak is nobler than a

Century filled with greed and usurpation.

It is at that hour when the heart is

Purified by flaming sorrow, and

Illuminated by the torch of Love.

And in the century, desires for Truth

Are buried in the bosom of the earth.

That hour is the root which must flourish.

That hour is the hour of contemplation,

The hour of meditation, the hour of

Prayer, and the hour of a new era of good.

And that century is a life of Nero spent

On self-investment taken solely from

Earthly substance.

This is life.

Portrayed on the stage for ages;

Recorded earthily for centuries;

Lived in strangeness for years;

Sung as a hymn for days;

Exalted for but an hour, but the

Hour is treasured by Eternity as a jewel.

Song of Fortune

MAN AND I are sweethearts.

He craves me and I long for him,

But alas! Between us has appeared

Arrival who brings us misery.

She is cruel and demanding,

Possessing empty lure.

Her name is Substance.

She follows wherever we go

And watches like a sentinel, bringing

Restlessness to my lover.

I ask for my beloved in the forest,

Under the trees, by the lakes.

I cannot find him, for Substance

Has spirited him to the clamorous

City and placed him on the throne

Of quaking, metal riches.

I call for him with the voice of

Knowledge and the song of Wisdom.

He does not hearken, for Substance

Has enticed him into the dungeon

Of selfishness, where avarice dwells.

I seek him in the field of Contentment,

But I am alone, for my rival has

Imprisoned him in the cave of gluttony

And greed, and locked him there

With painful chains of gold.

I call to him at dawn, when Nature smiles,

But he does not hear, for excess has

Laden his drugged eyes with sick slumber,

I beguile him at eventide, when Silence rules

And the flowers sleep. But he responds not,

For his fear over what the morrow will

Bring, shadows his thoughts.

He yearns to love me;

He asks for me in his own acts. But he

Will find me not except in God’s acts.

He seeks me in the edifices of his glory

Which he has built upon the bones of others;

He whispers to me from among

His heaps of gold and silver;

But he will find me only by coming to

The house of Simplicity which God has built

At the brink of the stream of affection.

He desires to kiss me before his coffers,

But his lips will never touch mine except

In the richness of the pure breeze.

He asks me to share with him his

Fabulous wealth, but I will not forsake God’s

Fortune; I will not cast off my cloak of beauty.

He seeks deceit for medium; I seek only

The medium of his heart.

He bruises his heart in his narrow cell;

I would enrich his heart with my love.

My beloved has learned how to shriek and

Cry for my enemy, Substance; I would

Teach him how to shed tears of affection

And mercy from the eyes of his soul

For all things,

And utter sighs of contentment through

Those tears.

Man is my sweetheart;

I want to belong to him.

The City of the Dead

YESTERDAY I drew myself from the noisome throngs and proceeded into the field until I reached a knoll upon which Nature had spread her comely garments. Now I could breathe.

I looked back, and the city appeared with its magnificent mosques and stately residences, veiled by the smoke of the shops.

I commenced analyzing man’s mission, but could conclude only that most of his life was identified with struggle and hardship.