On the bridge in Baghdad

A terrible silence sat upon the place.. in that distant basement away from the surface of the earth.. in that cellar Musa was preparing to depart.. for salvation.. The police chief stood looking at his prisoner.. and placed between his hands a plate of "Khilafa".. a plate full of dates and grapes. The handcuff clapped with his hands.. so the police force stormed the place.. faces harsh and stiff.. carved from stone and hearts cast from lead, and the brass clock struck the last midnight chime.. twelve copper balls fell.. ringing at midnight. In that brass time Musa stretched his wounded hand to take poisoned dates and grapes. The Imam looked at a point on the ceiling of the basement.. his gaze piercing through the bars, rocks, and darkness, he whispered with a sad voice: Oh Lord.. You know that if I had eaten before today I would have helped myself.. the handcuff mumbled with a hoarse voice: Eat, Musa, for it is delicious dates specially given to you by the Caliph.