The old man stood amongst the volumes of fading script stacked upon on the shelves of time.

Music plays from a bygone era.

 The door opens behind him and a smile lights within welcoming a visitor to his world. He turns to find a young woman  the gait of her walk and the carriage of her shoulders shows a weary journey weighted heavily by the sadness in her heart. He watches as she makes her way between his trusted old friends searching forlornly for one so young.

This way says the old man.

Love abandoned, mistrust begotten.

Life lost in the darkness of loneliness.

You have come to the right place for other worlds await you here. Recipes for life and the wisdom of the ages.

 The young woman stops, turns around and walks decidedly towards the shelves .She picks up a well thumbed Rumi.

 The old man nods and smiles.

Medicine for the heart. The Sufi has called her to a healing journey.

 She sits and lets the words wash over as she reflects on  love lost. Unaware as her true love resides and watches from behind her own eyes waiting for the day when she will be ready to immerse herself in the heat of her own loving embrace.

She picks up her selection, holds it to her chest and walks away from the corner. The old man  stands watching her as she pays for the map to her own heart which has just called her to being.

He smiles and turns back to his shelves knowing that another old friend has gone to take a journey with someone in need of a companion.

Such is  life.

Dusty corners with old men long past still tending there beloved scripts.

Old women busily dusting  corners within rooms waiting for there children to acknowledge there presence.

Unseen yet not always unfelt ,these custodians of time watch on .

Whispering encouragement ,advice and sometimes mischief into the thoughts of whose that wander or are drawn to there earthly space  .