absent an Echo

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

where are you my Resonance? why do you hide behind those lovely pairs of eyes, one pair human and one pair feline? would that both were in my arms, so i may hear both purring, softness to grace my ears and reignite my smile and the spark of what it is i'm chasing. but this self that longs for embracing, is yet empty of filling, that cake so far away from my tasting. 

 

has not life kept you distant enough, must i contend with further leagues of silence, that bring me back around again to moments when it's clear He's made me weakest? i want no further breaths laced with apartness, a poison that living here, like this, unwillingly gives me, this dunya and its precipices, aiding and abetting the test of one still breathing. it might be said to one in such a state, to wallow not in self-conceived miseries,...and perhaps they'd be right, had i any lasting antidote to aloneness, but i have not, it remains my archnemesis, since my first age at awareness, whether actual company around or otherwise, so little of myself gets expressed to ones He keeps me ignorant of. 

 

make dua for me, oh beacons He created and brought to my vision then saw fit to snatch away from my senses....pray that i find what i seek, fulfilled and fulfilling my beloved when at long last, we ascend Eternity's steps, iA.

Kevlar

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

beginning with my favorite letter of the alphabet, reminiscent of love and what it surrounds you with, thick and thinly, as the layers alternate of skin, some parts more sensitive, could go on and on, like Dove for the dryness, but perhaps shortness is where it's most perfect, meaning at its simplest. But, one more sentence, words tumble out in this moment so effortless, so may as well string together a few more pearls, like how one Day (iA) they'll be hanging gorgeously around your neck...that is, the unity of literal and my figurative, a message in a bottle floating across the ocean to where its destination is. No hope forgotten, rather seared into the bones, composing the construct of my soul, every forward is a forward where my Future goes: the progeny of our heart as it became whole. 

once upon a revisiting

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

about a year and week, since last i heard that sound, the voice of one i seek, nearly embedded in my ears, if there was a way to turn back time, perhaps i'd relive those 35 minutes, and have it play over and over in my mind. 

but He pulls time forward, drags me along with it, whether forced or willing, for the slave the march becomes inevitable. i do not mind, still my Future i chase, in moments of solitude or company, it's the reason i can muster smiles when this life gives me no -ade, but plenty of lemons for food to be drinking or eating. 

even as i falter, even as i try to create between Him and i some distance, to stop the agonizing of one who knows he will tested, with dose after dose after distance. He made me, then breaks me, then remolds me, fashioning into whatsoever dimensions and consequences He wishes, for me just the instant and its decisions. i will live with whatever He gives, knowing so much of blessing, but the one star that's been absent from my palms, makes any forest or ocean only appear as desert, with me dying of thirst from missing the only substance to keep my engine running. 

one Day, ya Rabb, let me find my rain, let me soak in it, knowing the fruit of my mortal effort and aims, were at last Then brought together, uniting those You had parted for a ways. ameen

poet to poet

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

In reply to:

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

(quoting one who quoted 'A Dream Within a Dream' by Edgar Allen Poe)

 

'tis not so, though i confess that even of myself, i know not the truth that awaits behind my own intent, my knowledge is so limited, my sight so short, all too easy would it be for me, to say i conceive simply inside a dreamer's dream. perhaps if one Day, He brings me to fruition, or least to a place not so far distant, your hands would find my face, to know for certain i was real, i in fact exist. could i not say the same? as a nomad might oft wont to be, trekking solo through his life, searching and seeking, nearly never finding though He might bring one's beloved nearer to his breathing. but, i care not for what i see or how things seem, just i care for how they truly are, a fact i know my eyes can not yet taste, for you haven't yet graced me with your nearness. so when one speaks of truth or fiction, it would not be fair to dismiss, if one has not yet feasted on one's dreams, and say of one's perfect kiss = "it is not true, merely dream that doth not exist!"....if i could make a claim, i'd say i live to be the antidote to such conjectures, such plots in the minds of poets like Poe who felt so deeply (and too often darkly sad), ones i suspect that could not find at hand their resonance. but! resonance does exist, it is true and waiting to be tasted, i swear this by the One Who is my Maker, He has shown me this, in places both slightly past the tips of my fingers and in the eyes of a Gift He brought (thus far) to me nearest. from resonance complete, to resonance in shades, at the End of this road, my beloved may harvest from the ocean as much love as they wish in to bathe, warm and soft, or cool and rising, rain as it's gently falling, or air in its rush as flying.

iA

 

 

Parallelisms 1

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~

that flower, it grows, both the vine it sits on, and the crown of the rose, though her thorns sometimes cut and take their blood, her door has opened, and the view is one always worth it to behold. she wants to wrap me up within her petals, until all i can see or smell is her fragrance, whether applied or from within her wafting; once i called her tigress, alas i wish for her claws in this second, especially in her absence. may my Rabb always aid her growth, nourished by this ocean, free of salt or detriment, so that one Day it comes to pass, that i become as deep as she is gorgeous, ameen.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

imagine if i was, a drop of sweat, rolling slowly down your chest, whether clothed or clothless, i think in such a moment, would i be a human most in heaven. i could not explain my fascination with the bosom, whether due to shape or essence of a sanctuary i've long been chasing, maybe both, but it simply is one part of the greater whole, a physical portion of the Sky as if it were one big puzzle. smiles and safety, contentment within the present, mindfulness i suppose as one likes to remind of - so long as He lets these remain part of your countenance, i find my breath easier to breathe in.