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The Sun at Midnight: The Revealed Mysteries of the Ahlul Bayt Sufis

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Laurence Galian

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“It's the wind, on a dead quiet day, moving through a massive wheat field. There are wheat fields so big back home, you can't imagine. Their size hardly has any meaning, you know? They just cover the earth. So you've walked for hours up to your waist in the wheat, deep in your own thoughts. You've made your way to the center of this dry ocean of living plants, not paying attention to where you are or where you're going. In all directions the horizon vanishes. Then you hear it. It's a rushing, like a million little ocean waves. It sounds like gold looks. It's the quietest power you can ever hear. It's not a tame sound at all. It's like the sound of God breathing.”

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“The problem with churches of all sorts,” he continued, “is that so often they ignore the key teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, like the doctrine of love. So often we ask God to be on our side instead of asking that we be blessed enough to be on his. That said, the wheat and the tares must grow up together, and in the days of harvest they will be separated properly.”

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“They stood up and the world was totally different. The wheat was an onyx sea, ever moving in shadow. Above it the heavens were illuminated with the wink of stars and planets, the Milky Way like a giant streak of glimmer slashing across the sky. She was standing right next to him, awed by the beauty of the night sky and their tiny, tiny place in it. It seemed perfectly natural that he leaned down to gently press his lips to her temple. It wasn’t a kiss really, it was a consolation. “Take my hand,” he said. D.J. could see nothing as he unerringly led her through the darkened grain to the edge of the field.”

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Book:Love Overdue
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