Truths

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

they cut me, they cut me, they went so deep, had me on a table, then put me to sleep, took out pieces of my flesh, trying to tell what it's made of, so maybe a cure might let me longer breathe. my first operation, not quite like the board game, scars still healing, left on the skin, this latest slice of Qadr, not something I ever imagined. but then, that is what it means to live: to face the unexpected, and try our best with it, overcoming or embracing, sometimes both in a single serving. Family and my beloved, showing their concern, wanting to know what's going on, and so I will keep changing, and be to them an opened door, always there to listen, or speak a bit on what they would have spoken for. I once wrote, that for my Muse to be free, my heart and chest must be kept open, by what I said was any means. I never thought there'd come a point, where flesh would literally need be sliced open, for lessons to be ingrained, never forgotten or let go of. this is my road, the lover's path to his Maker's Home, where he hopes he may be granted, every wish and blessing, compounded on top of everything his dear Rabb, has let him to already know.