The bouquet recalls that spring of our decade,
The vintage a velvet recognition to my palate.
Age enriches her complexity:
Before, I tasted the virgin harvest hastily,
And her varieties in perfect combination could accommodate that impatience,
Yet now, matured only shortly, she surpasses all the expectations of her year.
A wine critic’s prediction: she is one that will,
cellared within the sirr of my house, yield excellence upon perfection.
My love, I am impatient again and tire of this trifling trope and so let me speak poetry plain:
Know that you hold imaan across the right boundary of your script.
And so today, let imaan be adornment around your neck:
a faithful neck, for the sword has passed over, and is held by your left.
A neck I would kiss immediately now, turning the lights off to our bemused readers.
Regarding the four rivers, here is a secret I disclose for you (although, as usual, whatever I say can and may be used in evidence against “me”).
“… in it are rivers of water incorruptible, rivers of milk of which the taste never change, rivers of wine, a joy to those who drink, and rivers of honey pure and clear.” (Qur’an 47:15)
These are the four rivers that run from the Lote Tree (also outlined in the hadeeth relating to Mi’raj and within the first few pages of Genesis): as Qur’an and various Divine sources observe, two of these rivers (of water and milk) are visible, while the “upper” two rivers (wine and honey) are invisible.
Within Tailorite Sufism, these rivers correspond to four planes of existence:
Herman U. Ticz, the decadent dilettante deconstructivist dada dandy of London, was perusing Nature, sipping a fine Château Lafite Rothschild at the Invisible College, a club which happens to be above the Tailor’s West End shop.
He was reading an article about an experiment that attempted to prove that the subjective taste of wine is linked to preconceptions of the wine given by, for example, critics, price and the name the wine itself. A group of people were given an Argentinean red wine, a 2006 Clos de Los Siete Mendoza. A well respected wine critic had given this an exceptional rating of 92 out of 100. The scientists divided the the group into three subgroups: one group who were informed of this rating before drinking, another group who were told (incorrectly) that the critic had given a poorer rating of 60 out of 100, and a final group were not told anything about the wine before drinking. Each group was asked to rate the wine and state how much they would be prepared to pay for it. The first group consistently rated the wine very highly and were prepared to pay the most. The second group was the exact opposite. While the final group provided an average reaction to both questions.
“Bally nonsense!” exclaimed Herman in outrage.
He continued as follows:
0) Contrary to the circumstantial evidence given in the article, the quality of wine is not “subjective” as such. The quality of the wine is a function of the Mind, but the article merely shows that the people, though equipped with the ability to taste (and reason about taste), do not yet have an experience of Mind for wine tasting.
And if your love is only sufficient to maintain one wife alone, then may
your knowledge be from a river of purest water,
The river of life, from which every living thing is formed,
Whose tributaries form proof trees,
Whose waves our ships negotiate,
Whose games we play,
Whose flow marks our Time.
Here is life.
Fish of different species argue about their colours,
but their colours only add to water’s proof.
And a Wife of Water is sufficient for you to find your Lord.
The guide led the group through the gallery, from the second level to the third.
She led them toward the highlight exhibit.
Her speech went as follows:
We’ve had only a brief look at all the medieval and Renaissance art on the second floor. Some of it is quite minor, a few nice pieces. But it is all images (models) that have an absolute value (a presumed, external model of the model, a meta-model), prescribed — or assumed — by the Church-God regime. In terms of subjectivity, this absolute metamodel includes a notion of viewing-subject-as-worshipper that is just as prescriptive as any.
But now we have ascended to the third floor, and this is where the gallery’s most prized works are kept — the impressionist paintings that once were seen as so revolutionary but now, perhaps, to our image saturated culture today, seem rather twee and kitsch. Just fuzzy pleasant pictures of 19th century Parisian bourgeois life and dotted pastel landscapes.
Have a look at the landscape by Claude Monet for starters. Why exactly is this work revolutionary?