Three days in darkness,
Three days in starkness—
A cold room, a grave,
Fitting for a sinning slave.

The switch turns off;
The inner light comes forth.
The servant on her praying mat
Is shown the cosmos from where she’s sat.

Three heavenly commands:
Disperse, assemble, expand.
He who succeeds is handsomely rewarded;
He who mocks is easily discarded.

Three days, one Name—
The servant burns within the flame,
Embracing the heat like an old friend,
Wishing the seclusion never to end.

Three days, one visitor,
A bee and its kind keeper—
He lights the way back to the hive.
Under his lead, the servant comes alive.

The woods are dark, and the path is narrow;
The road to the hive is paved in sorrow.
Resilience is tested, as well as will.
Soon after, the sun rose, lighting the hill.

The grave becomes heaven,
Graced by repeated verses—seven.
A secret is silently transmitted;
Entry to knowledge is permitted.

On her own, never alone,
The servant is finally home.
“Home is wherever I am with You.”
Oh, how those words ring true.