The Sun and the Moon

Have you ever felt an unshakeable urge to try to hold onto breeze; to grasp an intoxicating scent within the palm of your hand; to capture a fading melody within the confines of your mind?

Have you ever attempted to capture a feeling? Have you ever felt something with such a profundity that you want the world to halt at that particular moment. You want the movements and moments that make life move forward, to cease and pause and culminate at that point. You want the perfection of that moment to live on forever.

Today I felt that urge with that severity. And I sit here in the wee hours of this Friday morning to capture that inexpressible rush of gratitude and indescribable torrent of love. I sit here knowing that tomorrow is a hectic day and that there is a looming deadline itching to be met and there are clothes for tomorrow to be ironed and reading to be accomplished. But I still sit here as the cool chill of Karachi winters seeps in my bones. Attempting to capture that tantalizing breeze, scent and melody. Knowing that if I don’t, this moment will be lost in the kaleidoscope of moments before it. The reward of experiencing this feeling is eternal, I know. But I still yearn to capture it in fading ink and feeble words. Because that is the only thing I know how.

And you would feel it too if you had beheld the sun and the moon in the same sky, as I did today. The sun was seated in all its glory bestowing life. And at the sun’s feet, the moon took light from the sun and taught us how to do the same.

I did not know whether to look at the radiant grandeur of the sun or revel in the luminous serenity of the moon. I did not know whether to bend my head to hurriedly note down a point or two of the exquisite rendition which was falling upon my ears which would serve to soothe my soul for eons. Or whether to drink in that celestial discourse unblinkingly and imbibe every drop and store it in the deepest crevice of my soul.

All I knew was that I was grateful. All I comprehended was that I was blessed. My ancestors had done some good, offered some service that I was born in this time and age.

And I pressed my palms together in reverence knowing that doing so would change the lines etched on my hands which determine my destiny. It would exorcise the bad times to come and replace it with moments of relief and contentment.

I quote from a poem I had stumbled across:

Be the light of the moon
like the light of the sun,
and the light of the sun
like the light of the moon,
and the light of them both
like the light of the One
who was before the moon and sun.

Maryam