Liber Saturni - Chapter 41

Verses

In the desert we called the slow star Zuhal, though names travel farther than caravans admit.

My teacher said melancholy is a black horse: ride it or be dragged.

He lived alone with three books, one cracked cup, and an opinion about every dynasty.

When merchants visited, he asked the price of salt before discussing the soul.

Practical mysticism begins with knowing whether the well is dry.

At night Saturn rose like an old witness who had seen the case before.

I asked why the wise are so often sad.

My teacher said, Because fools publish memoirs too early.

Then he laughed until his cough defeated the joke.

He taught me that solitude has two doors: one into clarity, one into self-importance.

Most hermits spend years discovering which room they entered.

A jinn came to us disguised as a tax collector. My teacher paid him.

I asked why he did not expose the trick.

He said, A tax collector who can vanish is an improvement.

The jinn returned at dusk and asked for instruction.

My teacher gave him a broom.

By dawn the courtyard was clean and the jinn had achieved no enlightenment whatsoever.

This pleased the teacher greatly.

He said, People demand cosmic secrets because sweeping looks too ordinary.

Years later, when he died, we found no final manuscript.

Only a note beside the cup: Do not make a shrine out of my unfinished chores.