While millions around the world flock to their temples to worship their gods, the temple where I pray—unlike theirs—has no tangible or discernible features. No icons. No menorahs. No Bibles. Or Korans.
I will start my pilgrimage there today and hope to reach the highest point in Rafina by Wednesday, where under the roof of blue skies and with a view of the sea, sit, cross-legged, and in silence. In meditation.
In the meantime, I will raise my pen upward, and salute my comrades, who have died in the arms of Truth, while clutching their pens.
May They Rest In Peace…
For surely there was none where they came from.