Exposition

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Love is neither given nor received, it is simply a state, like the saying, "being in love", or "falling in love". It requires no conditions once in it, has no ending if understood, and needs not even reciprocation for its survival (though that's preferable). 

I've described myself as an ocean many times, such is how I'd describe emotion whose strength taps into the ideal but must contend with the real simultaneously.

Of my beacons, the Moon has long been completely dissolved within my ocean. Inside every atom's trace, there is something lunar present. Even if the clouds are there, even if the Moon's light is obstructed or restrained, and even if the Moon herself decided that it would never shine another speck of light, inside my ocean will remain my Moon's essence. 

You need never speak another word, and what I have felt, and that which I chase, will not change. Long has this place been one of soliloquy, of expression and release, and more rarely, one of actually conveying thought. The silence doesn't truly bother me, and surely it cannot stop me. I have loved, and it remains, and there is a place that I live for which I seek it manifest in. Even if I must, with my Rabb's permission, reconstruct your heart with my own bare hands at your resurrection, then so be it, I would see it done. These words I would bring to life:

"But I’ll get there, God willing. I’ll find it. I’ll be whole again. If not in this life, then in the next." -6/5/18

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

silence is a dagger, that I've long known, so small and unnoticed, strikes without warning, a series of pinpricks, scattered across the soul. but as fortune would have it, you're already forgiven, never a thing you could do, to make me upset at something from you. perhaps it was i who became the villain? some word misspoke, some syllable thoughtlessly given? 

my speech is imperfect, so is my vision, blinded with eyes still seeing, repeatedly trying to see a way past this moment, then He drags me back to my ignorance, a stumble inevitable. maybe, when i'm at my worst, my words, my touch, turn into a plague for those i love most, though such is the case i've long thought, whatever nears me soon turns to ash, possibly thus explaining, how a lover is kept so distant, from those he longs to have. surrounded in blessing, so many reasons for happiness, yet from what i've always needed, i am absent, prevented, restricted, in my own opinion's court, convicted, of being insufficient while plentifully gifted. 

death is my answer, that He'll never give, not until every drop i possess, drips out from arteries within, tried and tested, so thus that it is, for me to be judged, my destiny proven in how i lived, while without love. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

withoutness

without my Muse, i am a star without light, a desert absent shade, a cloud without rain, a sky without its night.

would that i sometimes knew how you feel in these passing days, what goes through your mind, so even if i could offer no advice, perhaps at least your burden might be lighter made. 

my Gift is not near, thus do i drown in wave upon wave of need, my ocean's nature becoming the weight, as i struggle to find air, struggle to breathe. 

and where else might this battle lead, if not somehow back to that Heaven, holding within it my Dream? 

shine, dear Muse, keep your thoughts not confined or obtuse, i am but the mirror yours, trying to reflect from within our truth.

Ease

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

It isn't in this life I get to truly be your healer, truly get to give the gift of bliss, that I might erase all the aches, make vanish all the pain. I wish this place were not so full of stress, not so demanding, putting so much pressure, on your vessels and veins, while leaving no outlet for what stays inside upward building. Of every love I may ever know, yours is one that's different from any other, for it's built upon the things none can see, except just our Creator. With you has it always been, things invisible yet still immense, still important, of ideals, of dreams, of love, that which has always mattered most to me, though oft I'm brought down by existing. There was a moment's shock, when you couldn't understand, when I seemed to my mirror, as foreign as the world seems to me, as if for us there was the vast universe in between.

But even if I was last to remain, the last to contain, the memory of my soul's twin, of how things aught to be even if life brings about decay, I could not mind, I would not refrain, from caring, from needing, from wanting, from seeking, inside the end of my afterlife, your hand within my palm, fulfilling my strongest mortal pull, that I could never push aside.

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

even if i've died a thousand times, even if it seems like i've long outlived my life, even if it's only in my mind, even if my beacons had eclipsed, even if their light could not shine, even if my love brought along a knife, even if she had no clue how or why, even if i've long bled, even if i seek the end of time, ...

my only choice, the only one worth making, the sole option there, while I am kept breathing, to love regardless all the pain, that I might find awaiting. people sometimes ask, why I am not well, what makes me sad, how can I convey, the ropes and chains I've so long felt in place, to feeling as I feel, all else seem sane, while only me does this drive mad. I am the most foolish of all fools, that ever lived or sought what others knew, for I try to pay the price, of living as one's self, through all of one's own life. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

not as whole as i seem, trying to refrain from display, of all pieces behind the scenes. as much as i love, the dissonance is deep, striking, things for myself i'd never connect, intertwined in a reality manifested, not sure how i evolve next, when shambles is the game board, my queen herself part of the test. half the motivation doesn't extend past duty or obligation, unable to love freely, with disappointment and pain ancient bedfellows oft visiting. how to exist when what i am cannot be made real, when what's seen is just partial or plainly culled from life's most basic meal, no expression for that side of me made shadow and to people simply invisible. i know well ralph ellison's dilemma, his protagonist was one who couldn't fit in society, so he dwelled on the edges, not bothering to deal with the ephemeral. somehow, i need to let everything else be as it is, for myself to just breathe and keep in, everything i long for and chase, even if all beloved life keeps at arm's distance, this maze, continues its winding and wading, through swamps and quicksand pits, my moves limited, checkmate eventual, but for whom the victory? 

Held

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

In my hand, dear wife, you are the blooming rose, growing upon a vine, towards a height, no human knows, though for sure, it is my hope, your petals kiss the sky, and find therein, grown to their fullest, all our dreams and Joy, brought to fullest life. To do no harm, to never hurt, to always ease your road, to never make you feel less, but only instead, to be one that lifts, raises, caresses, holds, kisses, to be one that protects, grows, enriches, nurtures, revives, gives, somewhere inside this string of verbs, the definition, what I might call of love, if pure it remains, untouched by any need of mine from it, so long I remember, that all came from Him, always being as you are, simply my Gift. 

(not quite the) Vampiress

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Dig deep, my love, into my flesh, sink your teeth, finding the veins, the life of my blood, sharpened fangs, brilliant and white, a hawk come to savor its dove. such is the nature of valentine, to pierce and to suck, feasting on the essence mine, thus may one who cannot feel, feel alive. no shudder, no regret, no longing to change the past, no recreation of her into someone she isn't yet, simply do the bitten find acceptance, for this state is affliction and patience the remedy sounding bitter, but truly sweet if pain loses not its alter ego in pleasure. by His permission, i shall give and i shall give, until my grave is my home, and dust is all that there is, for a body lain but never did it cease, to chase the most epic of dreams, whether with effort meager or magnificent, the Pinnacle it sought, down to the very last drop his heart had to give. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

spliced

often am I led to silence, and thus spliced in two, a part of me to feel, and a part that knows there’s nothing she can do. Little cuts unintended, expressions unmirrored or unattempted, seems the bleeding is mine, something eternal and unending. But this is not so different than the time that came before, perhaps my sojourn is simply so colored, a brilliant shade of crimson red, hypnotizing in its drip, a guillotine ticking relentless. In these moments most, is the reminder strongest that she is this life’s road, this life’s test, that far ahead awaits my aim, where the ideal thrives both in its giving and its reception. I am absent all regret, simply whelmed by what I cannot express, to she a world away, but hiding as a longing inside the chest. Forgive me my Creator, these times are not so bad, just the battle is within the self, with victory a thing so distant, at times the core freezes long before the ocean dares to melt, so thoughts within remain wisps on a wind unheard and ungiven, sonar without edge or container or detection, silence in essence, its origin a scream borne soundless.

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

i know you're only human, i know you are a test, but that doesn't mean, that I'll love you any less. your smile is my sunlight, if ever was i stuck in darkness, lifting up the veil, between myself and happiness. i wish i would simply call or text, any time i longed to read your words, or hear your voice, but some times i know, for me to wait might be best. if i was that ocean that i claimed to be, i'd not drown you in any of my seas, going slow that first you may learn to swim, and soon enough i hope to dive, deep down inside the soul, where the ideal and real combine, a match and its light. even if i couldn't hear the echoes of your thoughts, or the echoes in your chambers and their heart, rest assured knowing mine are always flowing, seeking in their duas, a road that brings together that which was apart. 

Of Comets and Stars

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

miss her like a comet in the night sky, streaking across all my stars, a tail of portents brimming far and wide, there she was, then I came, too soon had to fly away, can't wrap her up in words, she defies all my description, choosy like a cat when it wants to purr, wish I could at least encapsulate, the memory of my lips atop her skin, such a precious taste, savored bit by bit, as if all the world was but her marinade, she my main course, just waiting for the moment ripe, when beauty manifests in her gourmet. seems so long my wait, but truth is lovers always take the longer road, nothing quite like that touch, when lifelong was the waiting to be whole, so one thing my star I'll always ask, that you're patient and never lose the hope, of union beyond these mortal days, beyond this mortal life, when One become those twinned of soul. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

There are a few things I thought should be clarified, as in retrospect some of my recent posts seem too heavily on the downside, which does not reflect the present reality. Much of my recent posting is a cumulative sum of my experiences from the past 3-4 months, with the sharpest moments and memories evoking the strongest internal responses that find their expression in similar language. But right now, the evolution of today that's grown from all of that time, it is quite different.

Human beings often tend to overstate their difficulty, and those like myself, even more so because of the inescapable emotional undercurrents involved. Though the road hasn't been easy with my Gift thus far, there is not a single step of it I would take back or change. Not only is this kind of my own perspective on life, but it finds complete resonance within who she is, such that the sacrifices that may come to bear, do so willingly and with (gradual) acceptance as my Rabb's decree. Words can never justly describe what she means, or what I see in her, or how being around her feels. With her, the poet in me is silenced and the lover brought to life. What this means, I have no idea, but that is what I've observed so far. Perhaps I've spent so long writing of something I sought to find, and now when it's been tasted and held, the words need no longer to be written, becoming manifest before my eyes. This would be a nice change of pace, though I suspect as I grow more accustomed to her and what effect she has on me, the results of that will be too immense for me to not release in words. InshaAllah, this is simply an easing of the road towards my end goal in akhirah, a road less alone and more full of the best kind of company, ameen. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

SubhanaAllah, how a few words and a few days change perspective. Not a week ago, it was some deep lesson in continuously giving regardless of what I thought received, and today, something I receive, somewhat unexpectedly, and I'm reminded of an essential lesson that I often forget.

I do not live for today, it is not in this very second that my aims can be found, but rather, I live for Tomorrow. Not just an akhirah beyond (and inclusive of) imagining, but also the more immediate part of the road ahead, maybe some months from now inshaAllah when I can bring my Gift home. What happens in the intermediate time, is not the finding or needing of any fulfillment, but each day closer to that point is another door opened in the seemingly-vast maze of doors towards what I seek. 

Somehow, alhamdulillah, the notion settled in me today that what I look for isn't and can't be found right now, and shouldn't be. Each of these moments is a seed being planted, watered, given as much sun and light as it might need, so that for what lies ahead, I might reap with my Rabb's permission the fruit of what I've sown. I think I placed too much expectation for my Gift to reciprocate as I would right away, as love might expect, but these things don't happen by my timetable, but my understanding. She grows, expresses, in ever more surprising ways, ways that bring their growing pains invariably, but just as well, when there comes a moment we resonate, everything endured is easily accepted and the hope of what is truly sought becomes steeled and firm. 

And of the road when she arrives? A series of challenges I've never known, but just as beautifully coupled with joys made manifest that I've barely begun to fathom. I know less than I think I do, though I don't think I really know anything. Remarkable. How the human being is dwarfed by his own ignorance even if he perceives himself to be not aware of much. Alhamdulillah though, my Rabb continues His support of me, without which I would be nothing nor aim for anything. But, He sustains and so I am kept. 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

oh my Rabb,

take from me my sadness, my grief, my unfound hope, my unmet need, 

shelter me in Your care, where safe I am, from disappointment, from that which cuts and then bleeds,

oh my Rabb,

so much I must restrain, so much held back, my love and my lust, my heart and my nafs, a pair aligned in one, who once tore them apart, 

at times I have no words, no way to give expression, of pain so deep, it's as if all troubles past, now unwrapped themselves in a single Present, 

oh my Rabb,

what have I learned, what is there still ahead, that You would have me smoulder into ash again and again, and revive me endlessly from the dead?

might not a single cut, clean and straight, be enough to sever me from this overlong fate?

oh my Rabb,

for this fool who seeks, a place a gift a hope, wherein hide all he's ever dreamed, may we shorten the lesson, sharpen the blade, so I need not a million cuts, to be taught the way?

how long I remain, I cannot tell, steady the moment now, but still I might reckon, waiting for me a thousand hells, 

until at last comes Your reprieve, in which Your mercy dwells, so then I can exhale, embraced by Happiness myself.