Lunar Loft

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

it's alright, if for all the rest of life, the only treasures of yours He lets me have are the ones already given, because i will love your silence and your speech, the painted scenes of our journey to come, alongside the blank canvas where our brushes have not yet reached, so long as you are safe and sound, knowing full well the part of me that beats, is what you've already found, tucked inside your breast, one of many portions i wait to meet. dunya guarantees me nothing, but that is well and good, because in you i've long had my chase and fruit, just as every nomad should. i'll brave the parching winds and scorching heat and biting cold, the loneliness amidst company the absence of resonance the incomplete attempts of others trying to replicate what you were born to be, just to have the chance He might grant me what He grants to ones He loves and guides towards His Eternity. you are where my contentment began, where my contentment dwells, where my mortal me, the duckling, finds in you the swan of itself