These prayer mats are filters since heaven is below
It sieves the frivolities and lets the prayer through
So when this crying laughter comes crashing down on it like a child learning to walk, like a heavy man’s stumble, like rain,
It will sieve it as joy, as the prayer of a man who has no words, as another kind of language.
This mat is a portal, a palace, the worthy bearer of our foreheads. So when we persistently bow and mumble words, it is the voice
The telepathic deity pulling out our original needs from whence we have hidden them. The mediator.
But aren’t you propitious?
To pray with a brother, to laugh with a brother, to share a small room with, to love the floor together.
So even when you forget the prophet’s holy word, the heavens will look at your bond.