In the Name of God, my heart, lock up your cares.
You will be safe though seas rage and heavens fall.

WHAT IS HIDDEN IN HEARTS

WHAT IS HIDDEN IN HEARTS

A stately house stood in the darkness of the night, like life among the curtains of death. A beautiful girl sat at an ivory writing table, her head resting on her hand like a wilted iris blossom leaning on its leaves. She stared around her, as a prisoner who has lost all hope that his eyes might pierce the walls of his jail to see life going by in free procession.

Hours passed with the phantoms of the night as that girl sought companionship in her tears, sought safety in her loneliness and lovesickness, as her emotions trampled her heart and her feelings seized the keys of the treasuries where her heart’s secrets were hid. She took up a pen. At first tears blotted the lines of ink on the paper, uniting words and the secrets of her soul. This is what she wrote:

“Beloved sister,

“When secrets straiten the heart, when eyes are made raw by hot tears, and ribs nearly crack from the swelling of what is hidden in the breast, man can find no comfort but in words and complaint. Sorrow, my friend, is eased by complaint. The lover finds solace in words of longing. The oppressed finds pleasure in seeking mercy... So I write to you. I have become like the poet who sees beauty and who records, compelled by the power of his divine nature, the impressions of that beauty in verse. I am like the poor and hungry child who, driven by the bite of his hunger, pleads with his mother for succor, unmindful of her poverty and destitution.

“My sister, listen to my story of pain and weep for me, for weeping is like prayer and tears of sympathy are like the good deed that is always requited, for they come up from the depths of a living and sensitive soul.

“As he had wished, my father gave me in marriage to a rich and important man. Like other fathers of wealth and station, he feared that one day poverty and degradation would come. Thus, he sought to join wealth to wealth and station to high station.

“Despite my own desires and dreams I was sacrificed on an altar of the gold and the inherited honor that I despise. I was held trembling in the talons of matter, that beast of prey—for when matter is not tamed and made obedient to the spirit, it is crueler than death and more bitter than the pit of Hell. I respect my husband, for he is kind and noble-hearted and seeks my happiness. He spends his wealth freely to please me, but none of this is equal to a moment of true and sanctified love, love that makes all else seem petty while remaining itself great.