Onwards

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

some visions strong enough to pierce indecision, ignorance, when a path has even no arrows, the direction is clear, indicative: upward goes the plea, after the forehead finds the ground along with the knees, sujood, an eloquence without parallel for the slave who seeks none other than his Rabb to take care of wants, envelop his needs. don't have to surpass my own writing, just recall why i breathe, living and being for remembrance and shukr, of His endless gifts, for my desert like rain He pours, perchance lessons take root and i keep hold of His book, His Rope, as seeds planted inside a swelling bedrock of hope, so sand by greenery is washed away, reviving my ocean, falling not prey to despair and whatever He finds loathsome; thus, foliage bursts forth from places thought too dark, too deep, to ever see the light of days and dreams, those which He granted His slave, far beyond any mortal's means.

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alhamdulillah, I can still write, so I gotta keep writing, period.