- in the name of Allah -

She's a tremor in my earth, tilting expectations from their perch, what's me is still me, but still reverberating with what could be made of me and her. She's a trip I've not yet taken, a fruit I've not yet tasted, how crazy is this road Allah placed for me, to long here for things from dreams? 

She's truly more than the sum of her all parts, but I don't think she knows, as the most important one is often missed, when by all the flesh it's clothed. If she could see herself, past the outer surface, past what others must have told her she's worth, then perhaps the journey for her being whole might start: with that most precious piece, her heart.

If she fears to grow, if she fears to find, things beyond her eyes, then she should know, in this life there's no pleasure ever, without its pain entwined.

If she wants to find her Garden, if she wants to breathe its ever-lasting peace, if she wants to know what bliss is truly like, with no conditions underneath, then her Rabb gives her this chance to take the hand, of this nomad who chases but his Garden's Peak.