Melika S. Bosnawi, From Afterword
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Would you believe that this abominated "fundamentalist" had a soul which, Gnostic-alike, sings:"Kiss the hands of Shaykh
who accused me of heresy.
And caress the patrolman
who put me in chains."
Birthmark on the face chained me, O my Friend, from your lips
Your sick eye I saw, and felt sic
I've lost my mind, but dram I struck, "I am the Truth"
Like Mansur the buyer of the gallows I became
In my soul, the embers dropped me with her sorrow my Beloved
Up to suffocating eat I, and renowned in the bazaar became
Night and day to my image open the door of the tavern
From Masjid and school fatigued I became
Of asceticism and hypocrisy stripped of is to me the dress
I put on the garment of The Pier of tekke and got sobered up
Weary me the occurrence of Preachers full of tips
From the stained drunkard the help I asked
Allow me to mention the temple
I was at the hands of Idol of the Tavern awoke
Thus, one would not believe it, would he! sang, like old Gnostics and Sufis, the most controversial figure in recent centuries of human history. His revolution has brought, among other things, on our doorstep, for centuries the spiritual devastated homeland, piles of books. Each one better than another one. Our honesty, our first infallible teacher in gnosis, was getting helpers. There was nicer and easier to travel along with the models that have from day to day dwelled in our eyes. And lead the one who wanted to go to the station of the Greatest. Up to The Owner of The time.
The modern world, with Gutenberg, television, the Internet ... like it or not serves his Imam of the time ('a). And with him, with al-Mahdi ('a), with The Guided, with the last teacher and companion, from a given station, travels only one who passed the previous; both levels, and teachers. If someone would ask me now about my condition (and no-one asks), I would eagerly, and with relief replied: Light instead of me!