Fires of Toubkal

Ever since I was a child racing the gusts of wind in Sijilmasa, ever since I left my hometown and started climbing the trees west of the town, ever since I observed the bird fly in the sky and toil in the fields, I would always be drawn to the mystery of things. I was always trying to find what I considered my destiny. One of the major transit points in my life was no exception; my settling in the Attarine school in Fez, seeking knowledge there until I became its top brightest pupil (ibn abi mah-li). It would be known all over Fez and beyond until the Sheikh (alzroi) acknowledges me and hands down his staff, his cape, and his sandals to me. Strange how all those destinies intertwined in the remainder of the 16th century. Stranger still is how the window of destiny showed me a narrow path towards my biggest dreams. Divine inspiration looms before me on the horizon of days. Goodness does not stop running through my tongue, my fingers, and my feet, and fate does not take long to respond to the destiny I feel.