Storyline

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

The lover didn't have much of a choice, this was the only path, would have been the same had he another name, especially the one he took, as 'Nomad'. Life as a traveler, even if in the same place he sat, nowhere quite the home he sought, as love wasn't yet in the palm of his hand. She was mortal, like himself, could bleed with a cut, or from a word spoken too rough, but with a soul untamed, one to mirror his own, the only one he longed to chase...but never to capture, he wasn't a tamer, or a collector, but rather, a thinker who'd met his inner self after she revealed him an idealist, dreamer, lover. He would keep any patience he could muster, no matter what his Rabb might plan for him (iA), through the driest or wettest of weather, through every cloud and downpour, evoking every letter that existed in every word they had a sound for, even should breath fail his vocal cords and hoarse whispers were all he could grasp towards, somehow, someway, his pleas to his Maker would be sent forth, hopeful entreaties that she never be left alone or waiting without relief streaking her way, like dawn overtaking the darkness of a night forever in retreat. All of these syllables I've in some way repeated, past and present or future, a message resounding as similar: that which must be spoken and released, so we may live long past memories in carving our niche inside the halls of Eternity.