#weone

We gather where the roads converge, a hall of many hands, each one of us had chosen once to leave our separate lands. No single voice commands this room, no throne sits at its head, we sit in circles,

Before the first neuron lit its lamp, قبلَ أن يُضيءَ أوّلُ عصبونٍ مصباحَه، before the atom learned to hold its shape, وقبلَ أن تتعلّمَ الذرّةُ حفظَ هيئتِها، there was a longing, and the longing was the