The Metaphor

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

if we took your heart as the wind, and mine as the ocean, then mixed them both together, what would we be holding? picture a hurricane, intertwining the water and its mist with the air and its breeze, as temperatures rise, the storm expands proportional to feeling. it's said life began with water, and what do you know, we need air for breathing, so let me have your breath, and in turn you dive for a living, not momentarily or until the gates close, no sentries or police, no fences, no rides shutting down because its dark out and so amusement must cease,...but rather, such interludes continue for as long as we wish, absent deadlines, present only in bliss.

 

this life is my cast, my chain, my earth, out of which i long for the moment my Rabb lets me break free of its shackles and limits, to share with my beloved the highest Sky and every ideal of worth.