notes of the stranger

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

so often an island, even in the midst of family or friends, speech nearly like silence, bedazzling to the listeners, foreign to their language, watching their cliques and comraderies, semblances of belonging and acceptance that have nearly forever evaded me, brings me back these days to moments of my beloved, when He might let them near to my being. my Muse, that pinnacle of mortal acceptance, souls cut of the same cloth - wish i was clothed forever, but this life is not quite kind to the scarcely-dressed wayfarer. the timing is waiting, beyond a Door many duas beg Him to open and let me catch the scent of my Future so my senses might be sated, but sooner or later, iA. of expectancies and potential in this life, should He let me live so long and be of my self established, might i reach out my hand towards the constellation of Twins, there, in the sky it sits, waiting both to be bridged, and if breath and His permission are mine, then so there is my flight, even as crazily as ideas in the mind may fit. this possibility, it's one of two reasons my spark in this life might choose to shine a bit farther, (the other being, if He gifted me with a daughter - for her would i, the misanthrope, choose to remain in life a bit longer, until she was settled and safe and fully embraced and protected from fate as only could be done by a lover and father). perhaps both reasons might find their expression, for doesn't a man have two hands, maybe He might grant me both reasons? for living and breathing and just myself being...i would love that, embrace it, inhale the consequences and relish their fragrance, beauty and beloved: the most wonderful pair of words that could be written, onward goes my journey, as He insists, seeking i some sparks to keep this ocean molten, my candle always lit.