The night stretched long and silent in Eriko and Sammi’s small apartment, save for the soft scratching of Eriko’s pen across the page. The faint glow of her desk lamp cast elongated shadows on the walls, flickering like the remnants of a forgotten dream.
She had been writing for hours.
Her fingers traced the delicate ink, guiding the unfolding dialogue between Imam Ali—the revered voice of wisdom in Islamic mysticism—and Ramon Llull, the Catalan philosopher, poet, and Christian mystic who had sought to prove the divine through reason. Two men divided by time and place, yet both seekers of the Absolute.
The paper before her seemed almost alive, the words forming as though dictated from the depths of the unseen world.
A Dialogue Between Imam Ali and Ramon Llull
Ramon Llull: The intellect, sharpened as a blade, is the highest faculty given to man. Through reason, one may contemplate the attributes of the Divine and by understanding their harmony, ascend towards true gnosis.
Imam Ali: The mind is but a lantern; it must be lit by the fire of the heart. Reason alone cannot reach beyond the veil. It is love that illumines the darkness and grants vision to the one who seeks.
Ramon Llull: Yet what is love but the alignment of the soul with the attributes of God? He is Mercy, so we strive for mercy. He is Wisdom, so we seek wisdom. By contemplating these qualities, we purify our being.
Imam Ali: The contemplation of God's attributes is not the final step—it is only the beginning. One may gaze upon the reflection of the moon in the water, but if they never lift their eyes to the sky, have they truly seen?
Ramon Llull: Then how does one ascend beyond reflection to true seeing?
Imam Ali: Love is not mere reflection. It is fire. A true seeker burns with longing, and in that fire, the self is consumed. You speak of the attributes of God—but the lover does not merely name them. The lover becomes them. The one who loves God in truth becomes Mercy itself, becomes Light, becomes Love, until nothing remains of the self but the Divine.
Ramon Llull: Then the highest knowledge is not thought, but transformation?
Imam Ali: There is no knowledge but the knowing that undoes the knower.
Eriko leaned back, rubbing her tired eyes. The ink glistened under the lamplight, the words still fresh, as if the figures themselves had spoken through her. There was something electrifying in writing dialogue like this—as though her soul stretched across time, touching upon something vast and luminous.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her reverie.
Sammi entered, her presence like a cool breeze against the fever of thought. She carried a tall glass filled with iced milk tea, condensation glistening on its surface.
"You've been at it for hours," Sammi murmured, placing the drink beside Eriko’s notebook. "Figured you could use something refreshing."
Eriko exhaled, warmth blooming in her chest. She picked up the glass, the cold biting at her fingertips. Taking a sip, the sweetness of the tea spread across her tongue, grounding her back in the present moment.
Sammi leaned over, eyes flicking across the handwritten dialogue. "What’s this one about?"
Eriko smiled softly. "About love, knowledge, and becoming."
Sammi’s lips curled in amusement. "So… basically us?"
Eriko chuckled, shaking her head. "Maybe. But you’re the one who brings the milk tea. That’s just as important as metaphysical contemplation."
Sammi grinned, resting her chin in her palm as she watched Eriko drink. "Well, somebody has to keep you from dissolving into pure thought."
Eriko reached for Sammi’s hand, squeezing it gently. In that moment, she felt what no philosophy could ever capture—the quiet, sacred rhythm of love that pulsed through all things, from the ink on her page to the warmth of Sammi’s presence beside her.
And for tonight, that was all the gnosis she needed.
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