Whirling mystics

They whirled in the midst of dazzling colors, their robes rising in harmony to their own ascension into esoteric realms. They whirled on and on like tops, spinning joyfully in a dance of ishq. They whirled, and the stars whirled with them in the skies above, like fireflies around a lamp.

The tune played in mind over and over as I looked on, and moist drops of envy rolled down my face. Someone inside me insisted that he too had tasted what they were going through....that he too had risen into surreal planes. But I knew better.

I had never danced. I had never whirled. God only knew if I ever would.