kufa
i am a wanderer a nomad lost in this world constantly seeking that spark of connection any telltale sign of the presence. my dusty shoes had traveled far and wide when they stumbled upon the threshold of the gate of all gates but yet they were still seeking that presence. any fool would have felt the presence of light but hearts hardened by time distance and pain still could not find the peace. maybe i thought, as i ran my chapped hands over the marble in the alcove of prayer, maybe it is not about finding the spark. maybe the spark lives within us and those who are truly at peace have found a way to kindle their spark. when i ignited my spark in the courtyard of the King the presence awoke unfurled its divine wings and with mercy the skies opened above me.