The Arabian Jasmine (wardat el Razqi)

He looked at her from afar, and saw her empty look, which was strange to him.  Her eyes always had his dream reflected in them, but he couldn't see it today.  He followed her movements, and saw her long fingers holding a white flower, large and oddly shaped petals... He realised what the empty look for.

She was lazily leaning on the wall next to the lecture room, going softly through the pages of an old hand written book.  She lifted her eyes away from the aged and fading lines for a sudden movement had interrupted her thoughts. It was a hand holding a white flower, a small flower with a distinctive fragrance that silently and mysteriously filled her whole body and wrapped her with it. 

Their eyes locked for what seemed to be hours, and their thoughts were interrupted by his odd words that he managed to utter, "this is for you, this is you not the Gardenia you were holding yesterday".  He blushed hearing these strange words, didn't wait for her to reply, he couldn't wait for her to reply, and decided to leave. 

Oh, how much she will cherish this flower, if he only knew... 

She was surprised, how did he know that was her flower, how did he know that all of her life she couldn't breathe any other fragrance than this, and couldn't see perfection anywhere else.  How did he know??!

For years, he kept giving her one of these white flowers every morning. For years he waited for the sun's dancing rays, so he can open his window and find the perfectly shaped flower, with the smallest of these pearly petals. For years, he learned how to call her name while talking to his shrub searching for her. For years he loved her dreamy eyes, her pearly skin, her soft smile and giggly voice. For years, he adored her humbleness, and complexity. For years, he learned her hidden language, and learned how to love her and to tell her with it.

She was reading her little book, turning the pages with her long frail fingers, and leaning her head on her old cat, whispering to him the old love poem she was reading, to be interrupted by a sudden movement. She looked up to see a hand holding a small white flower where it's fragrance filled her old body and wrapped it with its mystery.  She felt her again, she felt him again.  Her eyes looked up to see a young man, loving what he has seen, looking at her as if she was divine.  
She heard him saying before he disappears "my granddad says this is you, it will always be you"....

Human beings are seen then loved. Divine beings are loved then seen...