Surfaced

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

 

there must be more to someone than their surface, right? more to see than simply skin and flesh, more substance there to melt the candle they ignite? not sure what this question's answer is, how long He may make me wait to find, perhaps before then all my other facets fade, and remnants of the nafs are all that remain. so deeply contrasting, as if my Gift were cut of an altogether different cloth, with a dye that for my eyes is blinding, as i search innately for her depth, but the fabric bends my sight, causing me to miss, what should be apparent for the heart and apparent for the lips. resonance so absent, it's almost like this year had never happened, like i'd never glimpsed my brightest beacons, like i'd never felt a thing before now, as the blankness of the present consumes the parts of me she does not know in essence. how will my ocean fill, before it evaporates? from whence will emotion flow, to remind of what i chase? if in years past i'd been a machine, or zombie, or skeleton making do with movement, then now i am as simply paper, sliced from a tree of life, razor thinned, a cookie cleaned of its most creamy layer...still, i know i must live and strive for His Gourmet, as completion has no substitute, alongside my beloved - the filling and the flame.