بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

if every step i take was just so that i could see your face (in Firdaus), it'd make me an angel without disguise, a mortal clothed as saint, but i'm human through and through so sin is part of my fate, sometimes i can go forward and sometimes back, some moments i can see Tomorrow but then eyes fail me and so i relapse. this is how He turned you into something for me to chase, that i have to struggle to find khair, even when my tank is empty and the canvas i try to paint on appears blank, like i'm stuck in some demon's lair. it's strange, i know the high road, have walked it on occasion, have breathed its rarefied air, and thought myself an old soul antiquated in a time he'd never belong in, living and breathing but somehow still finding dessication. heart's been relatively silent, nafs finds its presence easily enough as blood flows through oxygenation, but what of my soul? what can i speak of it? sometimes it's as if i lost it during some period of catharsis, when i wasn't looking i subconsciously let it go because i knew what life would put it through. alas, perhaps this is simply overstatement, not quite as bad as i make it, but i know your visage is something that i truly miss, even as every so often i remind myself why i chose this road, just to find you at its end, iA. my intermediate states don't really matter, those moments they'll scatter like the wind after the snow's finished falling, worries melt into what tomorrows hold as new problems or temporary respite. so long as you can smile and laugh in earnest, move through life knowing you're always loved, find time to pray and give back to charitable causes, be kind to your parents like you've always wanted, then Tomorrow becomes something that's essentially a promise, with just one Door between me and those arms I belong in.