I tell you the desert, this route that you take to go to the heart of life, see the beginning without end.

5- Travels

 



From Desert to Andalusia 

 


In the space of the desert a line was born.
Like a river flows through the being to irrigate its gardens.
From the centre she has taken the word. A centre that names everywhere.
A line that shapes the moment out of time.
It comes on hand to lead the look. It traces the way.

 

 

The path in you.
This line is tenderness of the soul , speaks. She tells the melody of the union.
This line invented the beautiful calligraphy to recite the holy in the eyes.
How many flowers she procreated.
How many traces she spread.
Without ever being tired.
I visit his mark in Samarkand, in the Taj Mahal, in the Alhambra or Konya.
It is unique in its splendor. She speaks the language of the universe.
Peacocks imitates it in their movements, birds draw it in their flights.

 

 

Her beauty soothes hurricanes.
In the desert she was born and she returns to him to regenerate itself, to merge itself.
I travel in it as does the light in time to go back to the original and to drink the beginning.
The course of this line tells the path that the being undertakes to find himself.
When a line is transcribed it reveals a secret and evaporates into nothingness
The line comes from the heart.
Is reflected by the light,
And developes itself by the tenderness of the hand.


Mohammed Talhaoui

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




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