The Umayyads
haunt
us
still.
They can never be completely ig
nored.
They can never be, for long, for
gotten.
And the Roman prints are still
all
too
visible
in our genes,
in our desert,
if nowhere else.
(So are the sha t ter ings of the Seleucid dream).
A would-be Assassin still
l u r k s
b
e
h
i
n
d
every
corner.
And crowds of new Qarmatians are
eagerly searching
for
some
hapless
cause
to emb
r
a
c
e.
Yet another Dirt-Mover is out
to m
o
v
e
MOUNTAINS,
on
his
own,
through simple acts of
faith
and
d e f i a n c e.
And yet another Sufi adept is
hoping to
r
e
v i v e,
somehow,
the “sciences” of dead and
d y ing
reli
g
ions.
Sinbād is still trying to lord over
the WaVeS
of
angst.
His.
Ours.
And Alādin continues to peddle
his magic
rings
and
lamps.
There are still people around who are quite
willing
to
open
up
the
bellies
of pregnant women to separate
their sinful bodies
from
the innocence
with
in.
(A rather crude and futile attempt
at self-assertion).
While the Jinn,
oh, those nasty Jinn,
still frolic and
r o a m
freely
on
Earth,
and
in
Heaven.
(Occasionally causing the Earth to
s h i f
t
and
T
o
T
T