Grigori
There is a veil: that veil is black. It is the veil of the modest woman; it is the veil of sorrow, & the pall of death: this is none of me
I like the idea of turning this sentence on its head, and inverting its contents in order to describe Hadit, our "secret centre".
I am bright, I am immodest, I am joyful, I am alive.
That is what is hiding inside of "me". Rock on my Khabs