Volume One
Mustafa accompanied his friends to a cemetery for the burial of a loved one. He filled the grave with earth, resurrecting seeds beneath the soil. These trees are like the people buried below, extending their hands and communicating through various signs.
With green tongues and long arms, they narrate the secrets hidden within the earth, much like ducks drawing their heads into water… transformed from ravens to peacocks. Though Allah may confine them in winter, He brings forth those very ravens as peacocks in spring.
Even if winter grants them death, spring revives and greens them with new leaves. Deniers say, “This has always been the way; why attribute this generosity to the All-Generous Allah?” Despite their blindness, Allah has fostered bonds and gardens within the hearts of the friends.
Every rose that scents the heart speaks of subtle mysteries.
Their fragrances tear through veils, circling the world to sting the noses of deniers. They are like insects unable to bear the scent of the heart; they cannot endure it. Or like those with weak minds who cannot tolerate the sound of drums.
They feign preoccupation and distraction. They close their eyes from flashes of lightning, yet that is not the eye of the station they occupy. The eye is one that beholds a refuge.
After returning from the cemetery, the Prophet began speaking and conversing with Siddiqa. As Siddiqa’s gaze met the Prophet’s face, her hand moved over his forehead, turban, face, hair, collar, chest, and arms.
The Prophet said, “What are you seeking so hastily?” Ayesha replied, “Today the sky was cloudy, and rain fell. I am searching for a trace of rain on your garments.” It appeared that her garment had protected him from the rain.
The Prophet asked, “What did you cover your head with? What was your head covering?” Ayesha said, “I covered your head with my rida.” The Prophet said,