7.20.2017

- in the name of Allah -

Avian - [trying to] Fly On

every bird is born with two wings, he doesn't know it growing up, but whether flesh or figurative, they both carry immensity in blessings. whether two parents or two beacons, both illuminating the road in life with love unconditional and eternal, creating a longing and absence when they seem to the bird to be even a shade less bright or in dusk slightly dimming. without question, one's parents must pass, so too will beacons fade from sight of the eyes, making endless seem the darkness rising from an ever-lightless sky.

nearly blind, a moment before his path lit but now drowning in the pitch black unknown, eyes are open but he swears they're closed. pleas disguised as shrill screams pour forth from a throat not able to handle what being a mortal means: tried and tested beyond all notions of wholeness or partial acceptance, with warning of Hell below this bridge for ones unrepentant, but just outside of hearing, a call to Heaven at the other side, angels standing in welcome for the persevering, leading to treasures perfectly selected and unfathomed by human minds.

this bird can't recall all of the favors, effortlessly showered on his soul by his Creator, scattered across all his life like pearls largely unopened and preserved, without trademarks but all inherent with reminders of what's owed to his Maker: every mention of praise and shukr; if He hadn't placed in him this wish, to reach for all these heavenly doors, grand palaces surrounding by bliss, some leading to company elect, and many to heavenly Hoors,...then maybe he'd have become Icarus, flying higher towards worldly whim and worldly desire, noticing all too late his two wings had melted, the fall prepared for him only Fire.




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