azan

it means call to prayer. it's become strangely familiar, especially sometime 5 every evening. i almost wait for it. tonight, sarah and i were on top of a very tall house and were able to look out over the city. i said "what an escape for the business of this city!" she proceeded to add "wouldn't it be crazy if the azan went off?" we checked the time and within seconds "allah...." could be heard in the distance. then another one. then another. there were too many mosques to count, but nobody went to pray. no body fell to their knees in utter devotions. women simply covered their heads and went on, while some of the men chose to mute the tv. then the closest mosque to where we were standing began its song. oh how sad was the man that cried out! was he in utter dispare? was he pleading with those in the town to join him? was his heart utterly distrot for he knew no reason why he should repeat this silly thing again today?
my heart ached. i wish i could say i wepted, but i didn't.

the only thing that kept me sane was (is) "greater things are still to come and greater things are still to be done in this city for there is no one like our God."