Guided Steps

With the heat still clinging to me from the car, I step out onto a desolate street.

Deep in the dead of winter, I stand somewhere in the city's dreary and tired western breath. The houses on this street sit dark and still, and in every direction, not even the echo of a soul remains. Just blocks away, even the main streets are deserted, save for a few lost figures drifting through an endless void, scraping for a fix to carry them through the night. I break the silence that holds everything in place with the sound of my steps pressing into the snow as I begin to walk.

Under its thin powdery layer, patches of ice lie concealed like the attire beneath my winter coat. So I leave the sidewalk and the skeletal silhouettes of the trees for the expanse of the street. Above me the sky opens clear, and the stars of Orion and Taurus hang there like old guides for travelers. With their company I continue to walk.

Each streetlight reveals my breath, and snow crystals on the ground sparkling like scattered constellations underfoot. And as I walk on this bejeweled white carpet my heart begins speaking,

Your Countenance I wish to behold
Without You, the world is bitter cold
To the barren wastelands we'd fall prey
Without Your guidance to light the way

I arrive the end of the street, turn the corner and ascend a few steps. And as I approach the door of the dergah, I can already hear the faint chanting of Turkish ilahis permeating through the wood - a gentle current calling my being home to the gardens of its origin. This entrance is a portal that takes you back to an ancient time. I touch the doorhandle and feel the vibration from the beating drums on the other side to which my beating heart responds. I open the door and am greeted by an array of vibrant colors almost spiraling out carried by the fragrance of sohbet. As I step inside, I inhale the life that fills the air and become immersed in the harmonious remembrance of the Divine. I close the door behind me.