Contrasted

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

oh Gift, am I really "known" to you? when so much is censored of me, when my words are filtered from the way I'd want to think or speak, when I'm one who longs to touch the stars while you're one to fear landing on them with your feet? it is a bit silly, thinking of knowing or grasping, when all one has is a single straw but an ocean is the liquid being taken in, so slowly it seems, yet patience has to be the cloak I'm wrapped in. 

 

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if i could, i'd express 24/7, were she able to handle the wavelengths, manage the attention, but it builds to a point where only distance lets her breathe, otherwise fulled to brim with the elixir i'm (always trying to be) conjuring. my depths with her have little resonance, echoes i can't send with thoughts i can't even compose, no way to simplify some parts of the self, into phrases translatable and thus finding a home. i suppose one might consider this balance, that i have here such a place, but i'm ever recollecting my beloved, sooner or later, wishing their echoes or essences could grace my vision or any of my senses, but my Rabb grants me often at times, of them, only their ignorance, so i know not their happiness or pain or sadness or gain or loss or strain they might experience.

 

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such is the template of the test He has me walk in at present, and for much of this life i suppose, to see what choices i make as consequence. so be it, whatever He would see me through, i will go through it iA and one day, i'll be whole again too.