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.