el Al-Bacín - m'a Salam

Alone in the Albacin
where each street
hides
to catch your eye
asking
you to follow and leave behind
your self to discover the path
home

Only in the Albacin
where each street
hides
its name in your eye
knowing
you'll return to always find
yourself whilst following the path
home





I come in from from the cold and leave the chill still clinging to my clothes in the narrow streets outside. My eyes burn with fatigue. A white candle warms the perfumed air still scented with the songs of a free canary happy in his own verse.

Only in such moments can time collapse, and only in such moments can we surrender to love, and only in such stillness can our eyes grow accustomed to the darkness which dares to shine for us. These streets which have no name, no way in and no way out, octangular tables and the softest silks and fabrics to wrap you tight.

Wherever we are, whatever we are, this Albacin will always exist, here and now and in our selves, belonging to a brevity of being, free without knowing, whispering divinity whenever we walk its polished stones - grateful for knowing that only in the Albacin can we understand the beauty of seeing that the Alhambra was itself once just a thought.