“To locate the spark supreme: we are simultaneously guided by its exhalted Light, and so move further south and further east and, through its gift, our line of flight, our becoming is, for a moment at least, a becoming-in-resonance with the form of our Forgiving, Providing Beloved, whose Love is ultimately the meaning of the Body of Logic. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”
The Tailor concluded his Doctrine.
The Muslim stood up and declared: “You must stop this now! Your words are a projection of your imagination onto the reality of the Word of God. You have placed your own strange map over the Shariah, obscuring its universal, fundamental message. Stop this offense, and join with our Ummah of truth: Islam is a simple code of behaviour sent to all humanity. You have projected complex parables onto this code: but there are no parables here, except ones that inform us simply and clearly how to live and ones that we are forbidden to consider. Follow this Shariah with us and renounce this complex fabric you wove yourself: that we might seek the Pleasure of the Lord.”
The Tailor replied:
For your words alone, for your desire alone, for you alone, I renounce Islam, and become an apostate from that material body of Islam. This is the worst thing for me, the most painful thing for me, because, while I was never of, and never will be of the material body of Islam, my attachment is to the projection I perceive on its material. My picture-show was projected onto her form, her neck, her arms, her feet, her breast. My delight, as all picture-shows are so projected, was in her projection upon that form, those contours of ayat, contours of self-reference infinite.
My vision lit up her form, as she danced and sung before me, a form truly divine, my Bride of Light, my picture-show. My Ummah was this Bride of Light, hovering between the first and second, between Adam Kadmon and Christ. Projected onto the material that lies between these Aeons, the material of immanent form, this temporary, gifted fabric of your reality. She is a third term like this fabric, but a third term that contained the First Intellect within her gourds, that will survive into the hereafter: the term of light that conquers. I love her as my Bride: this form of light, her projection over your material body of Islam. In blasphemy I declare, half my religion is this projection onto the material.
And yet I release this material body to you, because you demand it. I grant to you everything you demand, in Love, through Love, by Love. This is my kiss, that you will pass through the gates into jannah too: I grant you this material body, because it is this earthly form you love, not the Bride I offer you. Nevertheless, you love it: and so I grant it to you entirely, so that you will continue to love. That you may continue to love through the centuries, that you will end and enter in your love and that you be end and enter, saved.
I give you my Islam and martyr myself to apostasy: let this be the sign of Love in the face of difference, let this be the sign of Love in release.
My Bride is freed of that material Body. Never more projected onto her form, her neck, her arms, her feet, her breast. My delight now lost, as all picture-shows fade, her projection fades upon that form I give to you, those contours of ayat, those contours of self-reference infinite.
Your forces never touched her, because her Truth is only as picture-show, not as substance and material.
And they desired only the material: and she abides now with me, this third term, in the Aeon of Light.
She comes to me and whispers this, now the storm is over: my Ummah, my Mind, my Wife, my Garden within Speech, accessed, transcended, obliterated by his light falling on me in the west, shocked by her sign in the east. That kiss was my salvation, for it is my sword, born in my right hand. That sword was my crown of Love. And I laugh out loud: for I know I have found the Pleasure of my Lord.
Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The Parable of His Light is as if there were a Niche and within it a Lamp: the Lamp enclosed in Glass: the glass as it were a brilliant star: Lit from a blessed Tree, an Olive, neither of the east nor of the west, whose oil is well-nigh luminous, though fire scarce touched it: Light upon Light! Allah guides whom He will to His Light: Allah sets forth Parables for men: and Allah knows all things. (Qur’an 24:35)