And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening toward the city gates.
And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship.
And he said to himself:
Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?
And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?
And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress?
Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?
And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?
Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?
A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?
If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?
If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.
Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,
And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.
These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.
The moment someone comes back to his own self, after long wanderings into strange lands, living meaningless lives, it is not only that he comes home; the truth of his coming home is immediately felt in thousands of hearts, far and wide.
You cannot hide the flame of truth. Those who have eyes are bound to see it. And you cannot stop the fragrance of your flowering from reaching those who are not dead – who are still alive, who are still sensitive, who are still open to receive.
That’s what happened. As Almustafa saw his ship coming closer and closer to the harbor, as he recognized that this ship is not something unknown, but something that he had forgotten – he knows it. He recognizes the people, the mariners on the ship, and suddenly the fear of the unknown disappears. And with the disappearance of the fear, a determination arises in him: “Now I have to go. My time to leave this dark and dismal existence, toward the eternal and the ultimate, has come.”
And as he walked down the hill, he was amazed to see…
…he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening toward the city gates.
Nothing has been said yet. But something has reached the hearts of those who have not become stones, who can still feel, who can still love. He has not revealed to anyone that his ship has arrived and the time of departure is not far away. He was just coming to say, “Long I have lived with you. Thousands of beautiful memories I am carrying with me, but I will have to leave you behind. I have heard the call from the ocean. The people of my land, of my birth, of my origins, for whom I have been waiting for twelve years, have arrived.”
Without any indication, people started rushing toward him from different directions: leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening toward the city gates.
It is not that communication always needs words. In fact the more valuable the message, the less words are needed. And if the message is of the ultimate home, silence is enough.
Why have these people, simple and innocent, suddenly started rushing toward him? – hastening. They have never bothered about him. He has been with them for twelve years, nobody has paid any attention to him. And today, when he is to leave, men and women are rushing toward him.