Show me, I look at you

Your breath becomes disturbed, and you turn your gaze towards the towering mountains in front of you. Your saliva dries up, and your tongue is tied. How many ages have passed since you last addressed Him? Your final decision to worship your Creator in your way has remained suspended. How many barren nights have you endured without success in supplicating Him despite your efforts? Have you forgotten how a servant's solitude with his Lord should be? Or do you know of no way other than the old paths you have despised? Once, you were like Hayy ibn Yaqzan on an abandoned island, so can you tonight be Moses? You whisper softly, unheard by anyone but yourself, despite the stillness surrounding you, but you are certain that He counts your movements and stillness, and nothing of your inner feelings escapes Him. Your words come out trembling and faint, like a long, exhausted sigh: Oh Lord, Oh my God… Oh my Creator… whatever your name is… show me so I may look at You!