The secret of the night is that it outwardly clarifies the beauty of what can be beheld inwardly. Although darkness abounds, it is in the night, that the light of Reality becomes clearly manifest to one through vigil and the abandonment of that which is abasing.
I have been for some time very fascinated by the whisper of prayer. It reminds me of a lover whispering something into his or her beloved’s ear, expressing intimate feelings of love and longing. There is a certain sweetness to “I love you” when it rings from the wells of one’s breathing.
I associate whispering with the night the most. A spouse comes home late after finishing up at work to find his or her spouse waiting up, ready to be united. Not to disturb the others in the house the husband and wife exchange whispers of love and longing. It is the same for the lovers of God.
I am not conscious of myself, nor of the world.
I sit entranced by Your beauty,
Ask the stars about the state of my life,
I remain awake at night, in Your contemplation.
After they, the lovers of God, finish up the day and make their retreat from the dunya, they stand in tahajjud late in the night whispering lines of love laced around the reality of intimacy (uns); simply put, the soul traces the pulse of the heart (qalb) in its being alone with The Alone. This is not the whisper of love poetry formated around the experience gained from mortals. Rather, this is experiential knowledge only the soul can swim in where exclaimed utterances of enrapture and annihilation fill the human being as the Words of The Beloved, the Qur’an, permate one’s contingent existence.
From my lessons with the Learned, it is tahajjud (night prayer) that they speak of the most glowingly. Two simple parts of prayer are what they stress bring the high fruits of the spiritual path lowered to one’s hand from which to pick, taste and savor. I urge myself with this reminder to abandon the comforts of sleep and awaken my soul to the Ultimate Reality, God, may He, Most High, be loved with all of my being and adored beyond the confines of temporal conceptions of ardor.