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... Another Song Another Season ...

Oh dear - no Java!!!!
Clouds
It's the Dawning of a New Day


My aim here is to tell you something about my world and my beliefs. As you are aware I am a Baha'i and believe Baha'u'llah is the Return of Christ in the station of the Father as promised in the Christian Bible. He is also the return spoken about in all other Holy Scriptures. Before you reject this belief I would ask of you one favour ... Hear me out first. If it doesn't make sense that reject this Truth. But search out whether or not this is true or false for yourself ... not by what others might say. Remember, it was the religious leaders in Jesus' time that turned the people away from the "Promised One". It was the religious leaders of the day that rejected Christ's unbelieveable claims -- that He was the "Promised One".
This "DAY" truly is "The Dawn of a New Day" for humankind. At present we comprehends it not, for collectively, humanity lacks the spiritual eyes to see! But it is time for us to become aware of this "New Dawn". To begin, I would like to offer to you one of my favourite poems about Baha'u'llah, a spiritual giant among men. Read with feelings to get the power in this poem, a poem of a Nanny telling a story to her young charges as their parents are entertaining guest outside in the courtyard. It is time for the children to go to bed. However, they are restless and want to hear a story before they go to sleep - one that they have heard many times before. Nevertheless, they wish to hear it once more! So! Try to place yourself in this beautifully powerful poem. Become part of it. Feel what the children and the nanny feel. If interested please continue.


Meditation!


LULLABY
(by Roger White)

Are you infants that you will not sleep without my tales! I swear you turn my poor head gray; I have been far too soft with you. If your mother knew we spoke like this your poor old nurse would pay, my little tyrants. Would you have your nanu disgraced that way? Ah, but what harm - we are children only once and that is brief enough.

Let me close the lattice (window) against the laughter from the banquet. The nightingales are still tonight.

So, you would have the story of the secret stone - do you not tire of that old tale yet? I fear to give you mordid dreams. But yes, we all love secrets and it satisfies me well to tell it; I do not have an endless store, for all my years.

It was long ago, in Tihran, in the time of your father's father, cousin of the Kalantar. I came as a young girl into the service of his wife. My people were honest and my home descent. I was clean in my ways, swift and soundless on my feet and quick to learn. Fate was often cruel in those harsh days but I found a good life and pleased my mistress. My hands could move gently as brown doves across her dilk, and I was skillful with the comb.

The day when one of high birth, a man of Nur, was taken to the Siyah-Chal, in chains, the household was abuzz. A festival was made of it, the servants watching from the roof as he was led through the rabble of the streets. I was glad enough of the event - not every day one of my station can see a nobleman in such a plight, and we had few entertainments.

A strange sight indeed - like seeing a white rose in a swarm of gnats. He walked in dream-like majesty as though He did not hear the curses and abuse - His head bared, His feet unshod, His garment soiled with refuse pelted by the mob. In excitement I siezed up a white pebble - sharp it was - and raised my hand to hurl it. And then He looked up at me, as though the better to receive its full force. I froze. It was His eyes, I think. I turned and fled, sobbing and shaking. Afterwards I was much teased by the others for being an hysterical girl. In shame I hid the pebble. And that was all.

Later He was exiled, I heard, but what became of Him I cannot say. Some said He was an enemy of God, and some a holy man. I do not know about such things - it was enough to have seen that Face. Oerhaps I should have cast it, but my hand was stayed. I took it as an omen.

I keep the stone in this small pouch about my throat - you may touch it if you promise you will sleep - see how smooth it is worn. It grows, I think, more white each year. The silly amulet of an old fool, I suppose, but when I am ill or sad it comforts me.

Did I not close the windows?

I smell the heavy breath of roses!

So there you have it; it was His eyes you see. It was as though they gazed beyond us to another world. Now will you sleep, my little ones?




Oh dear - no Java!!!!
Clouds
As mentioned above what I believe and what sustains me through life and helps me overcome its many difficulties are embeded within these pages. If interested in the way I see the world than take a slow walk with me through the pages of my site with a pure and open mind. And visits the Baha'i sites listed on my links page. Above all ... have fun ... clean fun that is!
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