Ramadhan - Creativity Twenty-Nine

Twenty-Nine Day

"Wa Laylee Itha Sajaa"

Will you be of the night?

Will you be quiet and subtle?
no...
How could you be subtle when you are not me?
How can I have any demands of you whatsoever?

Be, and continue to be.
I am elsewhere.

I am in a night-room, playing a piano quietly. As ideal as it would have looked, I must admit that there's no moonlight pouring into the vista as I play. This is because it's cloudy outside, and because the room itself is covered in bad veils, veils like artificial light, curtains and electricity, which never sleeps and keeps peace from feeling totally at home.

Elsewhere at this time of night, perhaps in London, there lies a politician naked in his bedroom, which is good preparation for his death.

In Africa, the same time-zone, a boy is out in the middle of the night walking with his bare feet. He should be bare-footed, he should feel the Earth, and he's lucky, the dried welcoming soil is warm under his feet. I sometimes wonder why we wear shoes over in England. Then I remember, it's because we don't walk on the Earth, we walk on slabs of concrete, fragments of glass, remnants of piss and scrunched up beer cans.

"I miss the Adhan" says the student from Iran, as we walk through Staines at night. "I never had it" I reply.

"I miss the sun" says the Brazillian woman as we stare out of the window in daylight, a grey English totality lies before us. Rain specs on the not-so-clean glass make everything less clear. A colorless car, that probably once thought it was blue, is trying to turn around, slowly, in the narrow street, reversing, coughing and spluttering. A man on the radio plays the devil's advocate, speaking insincerely about an issue he doesn't care about, pretending to stoke a fire. And I wonder why he doesn't shoot himself now. I wonder why everyone insists on being so busy moaning, and yet the answer lies before me.

Rainbows exist.
Full moons exist.
Sunsets exist.
Happiness is inserted randomly into you, even in the absence of those three majestic, Godly ideas. Happiness and energy is pushed into your being as if from a syringe, and your blood smiles, and your limbs love, and your brain snaps and bites, and everything is there to be taken, surfed on, laughed at and cared for.

From whence doth it come? And why does it go? And what do we do when it goes? And how are we when we're dry? Where sit we when we're low? What say we when God knows we don't know?

The London underground tube shoots at a piercing speed. Everyone is closing their eyes in the carriage, it's an oppressive noise between Green Park and Swiss Cottage station. Suddenly, everyone senses something has changed, and so they open their eyes. What do they see? They see that the tube is shooting off into the sky. They see London getting smaller and smaller by the second, with the same aggression that the tube normally travels forwards, it now travels upwards, or rather, away from the Earth. The relatives and friends get smaller, as does the employer, the pain, the love and the ego. Are they scared? Yes. But something inside them says that this ride is the Truth. So they hold on tight, and keeping firing towards the light.

Y.Misdaq, Ramadhan 29, 1427