بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

can recognize the swimmer when she swims, backstroke to breaststroke, taking it all in, relaxing every pore and opening, within the calm of an ocean enveloping, but don't forget oh beloved, that you must still come to the surface up, breath still necessity even though breathlessness looks a bit delicious on the chest when its falling and rising. every word i write, an anchor for your soul that it never lose its light, always able to stand even as life falls short of what we expect with human sight. can't say how He'll try you next, but one thing is for certain (iA): your heart sits side by side with mine at rest, so whenever it beats too fast, recall its neighbor is there, so yours can pump a little bit less.

Upwards

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

SubhanaAllah, finally been at ease in prayer the past few days, had been missing that for some months. No coincidence my Rabb times good news from the doc with my Moon shining brighter than ever, able to be a reminder of who I am and what it is I aim for. There's no greater blessing than to have a purpose that aligns completely with the self, reinforcing what it is and what it seeks at the same time. It's not always easy, but every test is worth it when we have with it a tiny glimpse of something utterly magnificent. alhamdulillah, always 

Nearly Literal

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

be my Voldemortress: She-Who-Will-Always-Be-Named, a Queen with raven hair and simply gorgeous, never one to fear, rather one beloved regardless, in flowing gown of white and colors royal, an essence not at all from forces darkened, but borne of light's reflections hugging curves so exquisite. you're not quite out for blood, just some parts you(we) may wish to suck, vessels and veins, beneath flesh thirsting for (y)our delight to taste (and touch), among which is for me the -crux, of Hope- residing in your bosom: as sweet for the tongue as a heart fulfilled by love. in the intermixing of such surfaces and fluids, might we then find out how i became he-who-lived, an antibody for all of that which falls from lips. 

[just-in-case clarification of the last line: an antibody is what the body makes in response to something it perceives as harmful,  and 'what falls from lips' is indicative of what is longed for - so essentially that would make me (iA) your cure :]

[(edits: can't let you have all the fun;)]

[edits2: perfecting the metaphor]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

my Rabb, forgive me when I'm too much, she sparks all my tinder, whether or not it's enflamed enough. in all my expressions, let her find a pull towards Then, so for now we stand steady and sufficed, ameen.

Sight

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Heard back from my doc today about latest scan results from the past week. The  subject line included "EXCELLENT RESULTS" in all caps, so things appear good thus far alhamdulillah. Some mention of a "metabolic remission", which is always a positive indication in matters like this. 

It's difficult to really formulate a mental response to the news, except to say there's relief over being able to look ahead again, plan things out somewhat, see how the dominoes might fall. But my Rabb seems to be alleviating the trial from me that He Himself brought, so not quite able to articulate shukr yet. It was His to begin with and it's His to take away as well. The situation reminds of a scenario like this: if one man took a knife and stabbed another but then healed him right after - how would the wounded one feel? Apprehension or gratitude? 

Without a doubt my understanding of slavehood faces its next major mental hurdle in how to digest everything that's happening. I have an inkling the only way to move forward will be the ability to internalize as blessing the fitnah itself, allowing gratitude both at the beginning and end of a trial - without allowing disillusion to become a poison in one's relationship with his Creator. The ability/instinct to desire and wish and chase after is also to be revisited/revived, for example: I can't really care too much about a Gift being near to me when so much is out of my control. It can't matter. Whether she comes or she stays there, it has to be all the same for me. Almost in a similar vein, whether I hear from beacons or not, doesn't really change anything. The path remains what it is, with an abundance of caution now imprinted onto my soul with regard to everything I'd otherwise care deeply for. 

Moments like these is why I chose a goal from akhirah to be a persistent light. If my goal was founded in dunya, how could I possibly sustain it while going through something like this? That my goal is elsewhere, alongside the Muse no less, coincides effortlessly with the fact that my Rabb sustains the objective in its entirety. Mortals might be able to delude themselves into thinking that human effort alone can suffice them for mortal/worldly goals, but the clarity of dependency on Allah is an inherent necessity when it comes to an otherworldly ambition that would have love reach the top of all the heavens (literally and figuratively). There's nothing else quite worth the trip.  

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Ramadan started, alh I suppose. not gonna be for me what it's been in years past, this time and circumstance being so different. no real ability to put much into dua, aside from the core part of fardhs. the feeling of disconnect often the only aura that resonates around me, dissonance from reality and purpose that got pronounced beyond fathoming this year. what to make of 2020 thus far? it's def not hindsight or foresight or any kinda sight...in fact it's just been like blindness, for being unable to do or see in the present anything remotely substantial (like studies or work or you know, living). 

Allah does what He wills. not a fcking choice in the matter of rugs being slipped out under me again and again, it's cause enough for anger and dissent from decree...but qadr happened to be what i'm chasing...just now it found me a lot sooner and in a way i never imagined. what's my play? nadda. no play, no move to make, simple sabr whenever some shade of madness isn't running in my veins. no fault here, no villain, it's a trial (at least 3-4+ layers deep) like nothing i knew. what if i was being tried with something as deep as myself? lol wouldn't that be ironic. hahaha that's great, just great. a quality of mine i tried to sustain over the years ends up reflecting the kind of shit people can't imagine. not causal in nature, just coincidental. of course with Him ain't no coincidences, every freakin thing has a purpose, even and particularly if feeble (and annoyed) human minds can't wrap themselves around it. this is not my consolation. it's a protest. mortal and limited as it is by being human but instinctive nonetheless. deep breaths..

the candle's Flame

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

even in passing moments of misery, where minutes stretch into endless infinities...my Muse can inspire like this, alhamdulillah for anticipation.

~

if you ever wonder what parts of you i want: from your head to your toes, your heart to your soul, from your skin down to your bones, every atom and cell and sense we know, every angle from behind to the tips in front - above and below - including that of the nose; every essence of yours awaits such kisses and touching, starting with the surface and working my way down to your center of every thing. 

~

if I can ever give you reason to smile, i'm happy. iA

 

no flight for the downed one

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

a slave, he was born with wings, so he sought to fly, reached out with his palms, almost caught the clouds in the sky, right up until he saw His sun, then he went blind. didn't know they'd burned up, thought the road would be fine, used to the heat, like so many trials of bygone times, but the price - the price caught up to him, when blinded and wingless, his Creator showed him what he thought was his provision, turned into yet another mirage, of need turned by test into whim judged needless, so extracted from his senses without warning or anesthetic, open-cavity surgery straight down from his skull to his chest to his pelvis, carried on the corridors of lymph now turned against him, the loss of his reason and desire and soul, merely byproducts of a fission only his Creator could fathom and break from his mold. 

later the slave would learn, he wasn't flesh but wax, living and experience not quite gifts, but for the growing a tax, taken and stripped whether in pieces or snips, whole or partially-dripped bloodless or bloodied by violent methods, these were no pretty scenes for the one who had, of himself, nothing left. once, he'd spoken of his wings, almost a dream it seemed, to have such elegant organs growing from such a menial being, but then he wasn't self-created and couldn't quite articulate the meaning and poetry of illusions and realisms interchangeable as light bulbs would be for a muse in a museum, but recall his blindness and so he'd never know the true worth of his Muse while eyes were shuttered and closeted inside the graves of his visions, wings burned off...or so that's what he thought

 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

keep me alive, why don't Ya, keep away the pieces of me most precious, see if my lungs still function while You force blood to flow and oxygen pumping, my blessings You kept numerous and infinite even if i'm on an edge and not jumping. tell me how to think, how to perceive, how to keep close my beloved, when all this life You own seems to do is cut me off from my most intangible needs? if the inner chamber shuts and i resort to no longer feeling, then again i become like machine, a collection of nerves and muscles moving to some rhythm or reason of Your permission, like praying or refraining from evil while capacity for it persists,...but what becomes of me? soon, can't tell when, the longer in this state i live, the less of me there is, most of it faded on the wind, carried on the backs and wings of birds i love but can't hold yet in the palm of a hand soon to be the same as dust. they say we aren't tried beyond limits, but sure as heaven feels like that's what i'm approaching, even if ties aren't strictly cut and beacons beloved retain some semblance of light from distances far too distant for my taste or touch.

if i could let her go for this life, not chase after that only mortal spark that echoed with my soul, then this price You make me pay, has not quite so high a toll, just hope i can recognize the self again, before the start of Judgment shows me what i've been  

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

alhamdulillah, it's good to know sometimes, even if it can't be all the time, the moments we're given, of orbiting bodies coming just a tiny bit closer and so awareness increases..it's a gift. 

these days remind me of the darkest part of my life, about a decade back, the era of self-isolation and societal/life avoidance. really hated that time, alhamdulillah my Rabb saw me through it though, even if now is externally similar to that time but for all kinds of different reasons lol. reminds me a bit of an old eminem song, eventually perhaps the sources of pain lose their edges, being not so sharp but just something appreciated as it forces growth and acceptance of circumstances that defy imagination. 

another major blessing, among my most profound- family. could never forget how much Allah sheltered me, and in a state like this, with all material needs taken care of by His permission, even as the economics of the world itself crumbling these days...the security blanket is..vast.

a few things missing, but if i had them, what's left to chase? (note- wisdom is not always the most comforting thing lol)

 

Hawa Hawa...meri hawa?

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

So there was a beautiful wind blowing outside today, alhamdulillah, and some old school lyrics popped into my head. Found it 😁

yaar, ab us ka pata de xD :)

Guess who sprung to mind? I mean it just so happens that not long before this inspiration struck, I saw a Moon in my sky. Lol alhamdulillah nice reminders.   

Irony Most Exquisite

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

So this particular moment earlier today, nothing out of the ordinary before, no specific expectation going into it. 

My Gift and I have chatted a bit in the day, random thought comes to my mind and I decide to share: a memory about kisses we shared. 

At the exact second I'm typing a short sentence into my phone, before I finish and hit the send button, she sends her own message first. It is a meme pic of an ugly dog captioned by a "tickle in the throat" and "corona" (meaning the pandemic). 

.

..

...

....

..... 

Of all the fucking things in the universe, at all the various times they could have been possible, that's the moment my sentiment finds its most opposite, contradictory, disgusting, abominably-imaginable counter-notion from her. Haaaah.

And to ward off any counter suppositions, to gauge just how out of the blue and truly/inherently off-sync that exchange was, not a second later she was agreeing with me about those kisses and looking forward to the future.  

Consider the probability, the likelihood, of this impossible juxtaposition, occurring at the SAME TIME! This wasn't a knife to the heart, it was a palm to the face, and awestruck incredulity at the timing my Rabb shows me of things..smh 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Alhamdulillah, my Rabb's blessings continue to sustain me, as they always have. What more could I ask?

 

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Alhamdulillah, beautiful weather the past few days, enough to stir one out the confines of this pandemical era and be a bit closer to nature. 

A few things I wanted to throw out there, for future and past and present reference: 

___

even if there's nothing i can hear, if silence was all you could give, doesn't change for me a thing, or the one i'd want to have near. we don't need goodbyes, barely even hellos, just one salaam now or then, a day or year or decade apart, who knows, (but my Rabb, Who made us both).

even if a moment came, where my essence faded from your vessels, no longer ran inside your veins, and you could not feel that old crazy madness, that emotion tends to claim, i would still chase what i chase, for He put it all there and it's His to take as well away.

___

What is a love, if it was not and did not seek to be eternal? That which lasts, never fades away, persists, endures, beyond all fathomable obstacle or scenario..I wouldn't have it be anything else. Interestingly, my only doomsday conception was if, Allah-forbid, He decreed your hand to be in someone else's on that Day. This doesn't bother me though, as if it's His will and if I'm in a position to not fret about torment - at least something right between Him and I would have happened and I'm cool with that.

Still, some aims are too grand, too priceless to allow any mortal factor to get in the way of their completion. The look in your eyes, when we see what we've never seen before, it's more precious to me than any mortal/worldly perception you could have. A nonsensical notion, I know, to frame love in such a way whether or not its reciprocal remained, but life is kinda all about surviving unimaginable things.

 

Delineating, still

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

sometimes when the seasons change, not so suddenly but slowly as winter fades, vital colors spring again to life, along with reminder for this path of mine. 

my Gift: still now across the seas, bit by bit brings herself to focus, in hopes we might fulfill at least part of need, as I recall what must be given, no matter what is received. she is a flower, perhaps I am the vine, struggling upward to find with her a perfect perch, with which she basks in sunshine, and so the meaning of affection is understood.

my Muse: ever the one He brings, without forecast or prediction, at times a lonely day's gentle rain, or at others, the chocolate icing for a cake yet still in the oven baking. perhaps in this, I am candle to her flame, my purpose to be melted, and help ensure her light is immortal made. 

...and my self: of existence, I chose not this vivisection, not of flesh but of soul that He tries with test of my mettle, my conviction, one who must live and breathe while parted from his essential organ,..but that's alright, in whomever He permits a beacon to shine, I've no argument in this, simply is my forward going, with ratios unfixed, at times pieces less or pieces more, just one Day being whole again, my every atom's wish.

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

her glow got through. even after the decade where he couldn't see her grow, the shine was still there. perhaps in that was something for him to be glad of. despite so many blessings surrounding his life, there was still the one, the most elusive that evaded him. when he would find it, only his Creator knew. but the moment itself, that was not hard to envision. if there was a single person of his own choosing that he would be next to, it would be her. but at some point in his worldly existence, he had realized that this life was not one to be lived according to his wish. all of the time he had now, was a test to see how he survived the apartness. it would have been nice if submission to his Creator was easier to manage alongside this realization, but it hadn't been of late. the tests felt too compounded, too close together. words to describe the state were absent, regardless what few shambles escaped the mind trying to reach the outer world...her world. words were insufficient, he knew and had always known, hence why he kept writing on and on, to try and fill the void of the distance, a void as vast the stars in a night sky...but he had the ocean of his to work with, an ocean his Creator had made part of him. so it was not so immeasurable, one supposed, to paint through the wind straight to the heavens, taking as his brush and ink the ocean beneath.