5 Tir 1405
Quatrain 16 of 75
“Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.”
Reflection · Summer 1405
The caravanserai in summer is busy — the doorways cycling through their night and day with particular speed in the long light, the traffic of sultans and caravans at its peak. Summer is when you feel most permanent, most established, most like a resident rather than a guest. You are a guest. Khayyam insists on this not to diminish but to orient.
The guest who knows they are a guest pays attention differently than the one who thinks they own the place. The summer guest notices the specific quality of the summer air in this caravanserai, the particular company in the courtyard, the exact texture of the hour. Because the hour is finite and they know it. Think, in this battered summer, how much is passing. Not just you — everything. The heat, the long day, the particular abundance. Sultan after Sultan. Season after season.