Sunflower

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Sunflower seeds, sprouting in the breeze, not quite summer, but here’s what it could be: timeless sunshine, without shadows or shades, without blemish or rain, unless we so chose, to walk in such precipitate. Wish I could feel your heart beat, not just in my own veins or arteries, but also from inside every written word, that emanated from your being, echoes of breathing, without lungs but life still there I’m seeing. I know these days, they clash altogether as one and the same, feeling indifferent or indeterminate, volatility settled perhaps by patience needed for the traveler who’s transient, but that doesn’t mean we can’t tap into the highest ether of being, of purposes and calls made as heavenly doors opening our way. Smile and be as bright as the Moon can oft be, journeys aren’t amazing without struggle, for the pathway ultimately ends at ease. Even if life welcomes you like a desert, open arms of desiccation and thirst wide so your essence it tries to take and erase in sandstorms of screams muffled, I hope our Rabb lets me be the endless lake, freshwater always for your tongue to taste, blissfully wet from the bottom of my soul, quenching the thirst and healing parched lips, within an ocean of hydrogen and oxygen, locked in perpetual kiss.

Perhaps I might read those writings now, or shall I keep going down the road of crazy-how? Thus to show with words, twists and turns to vivify the absurd, bringing back to life things we thought interred? Rise again, Oh hiding heart, tremble the earth, find again your quake, as reasons reaching beyond mere earth, soaring into skies of Gardens vast and limitless, a puzzle made whole with all its pieces.