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My Dearest Prophet

Sir!

My connection with you began the day I was born! They called me rose so I could remember you, and they gave me the name Aysegul (Aisha Rose). I do not know if that is why I think of you every time my name is called.

My dearest Prophet,

I never get tired of calling you to my dreams every night. When I wake up without having seen you, dawn does not break for me. I console myself every morning with the fading hope that "maybe one day you will come." But, on the one hand, I am in a flutter. How will I welcome you in my dreams; my small heart may not endure seeing you, and by body may be crushed under this weight. Regardless of how much I want it to, my body cannot lighten up.

If one day you come to my dream, do you know what I will do not to forget your face? I will mix thousands of words to explain you and write pages to describe you. But how can the best of mankind ever be described? I don't know!

If a wind carries me to a place I do not know, I will fly towards you on a dry leaf in order to find you, my dearest Prophet. But I want to look at your radiant face without blushing. I want to talk without being embarrassed.

I am young and I think about what kind of person I should be. I want to resemble you; I want to talk with you. I want to talk with you so I can learn how to talk with you.

One day you adopted a crying child dressed in old clothing. You caressed him and loved him. I wish I could have been in that child's place.

I wish you had never gone and had remained always in this world.

I wish I had seen you and been among the most fortunate of people. I would have clung tight to the tails of your cloak as if I might lose you any moment.

Now you are no longer here.

Orphans can find no soft hand on their heads.

The poor have buried their hopes in their hearts.

Children have begun to fear their mischievousness, because you are not standing behind them.

Adults are no longer sorry for their sins.

If one day you come to my dreams, I will never wake up. I will be reborn at that moment. I will have found my exemplar and, escaping from artificial happiness, I will taste real joy. I will describe you without mixing up words. I will write and describe you, because I will learn how to depict the best of mankind from you.

I am going... I am going... I am going to sleep. Maybe you have long since read my letter and are waiting to give me an answer...

Ayşegül Işık (14 Years Old)

 

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