بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ
seems I can never predict the days or the nights, when and which of my celestial lights He'll let shine brightest, most visible to my earth while time passes as if it scarce existed. still, though my Moon remains behind clouds and hidden, sight deferred by decisions, could never let the memory of my favorite day pass unmentioned, when He brought to this world the first to show me her acceptance. of the mortal gifts I've been given, this is one cherished most, for all the ambition it cemented, ensuring what I've chosen eternally holds. what is a nomad without his Moon in the sky to light the desert sands when it got darkest at night? when fondest of memories and hopes intertwined in her eyes and a touch yet only dreams have inside? so it is, every light has its place and meaning and purpose, guiding and preserving, that which we've known, while still chasing the yearning in fullest.
No comments:
Post a Comment