an invitation to Honey

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

 

maybe you've ruminated as often as i (or more?), on the nature of Resonance, and how it intertwines, could describe it a calling, nearing obsession, when it frames one's pursuits in life. as once you said, of the intensity and consequences, "it is what it is", the business card of ones ever seeking to be divers, not temporarily or intermittent, but rather perpetually wading, wafting, soaring, soaking, aerial or liquid, solid or star-kin plasma, states with names losing meaning when language fails to capture or convey truth in essence. 

 

so, fittingly such lyrics find composition, inviting you, my Bee, to make my chest your hive, and when with the world after busy days you've finished, you fly inside and slowly drink the nectar that our union yields, bubbling forth without limit. i'd cherish all the stings that our natures united bring, if you only share with me your wings, thus we soar, hand in hand, your legs wrapped around your honeypot, something of the cake and its eating too we've got. 

 

and as one more note to add, remember what once i said about how the nahl has its path chosen by its Maker? delineated to the letter, this is a blessing my dear, resist not the wheel(qadr) when its chosen for you the fabric of twinship, to keep warm and hopeful when this world turns its age to ice and shades of dark or absence. bi khair, iA

Yet unspoken

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

waking up to your intensity, falling into your eyes before we fell asleep, such trifle moments, cherished, though as yet they hide within my dream. don't know how easy or hard your struggle goes, don't know if you have life on thy own silver platter...or if it loads weight after weight, upon those longed-for shoulders. wish i knew your road, how it shapes and curves, how better or harder, perhaps i become a pill upon your tongue for swallowing, whenever cures seem to you as a thought farthest from imagining. and in more pleasant moments, when your nights grew peacefully quiet and serene, the body relaxed, so take in that pill as the candy of potential, not far off released. the misser and his missing, articulated absence inside of words he swears with every year become more hollow in their being, but 'tis not a problem, for He keeps him growing, keeps his chest beating, sipped at times by the Gift wrapped in salty sweetness, thorny-rosed, the best parts our souls they clamor for, i swear they're just behind that door, regal Patience, waiting for us to bring our effort's share, perchance elicit from our Maker His mercy that is the key to Everything, and than that more

 

Analogized

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

Life is much like a front-loaded washing machine. We spend one half our time facing upward, at the skies and hope and possibility, and the other half of the time is spent facing downward, at the earth and our mortality and the potential/reality of failure. The battle being, not to be carried away in either state, remaining ourselves even as the wash cycle spins us round and round again.

 

I live onward. My Rabb,...He keeps me, again. I do not know for certain towards what End, but it onward goes. It's so strange to think of what I love to see, to hear, to touch, how simple the notions, but to be still distant from their happening. I can't say I thought the addition of my Gemini to my sky would make the present moments easier. Of course, I learn that distance is much like a cut (or series of cuts) scored upon the skin, sometimes treading deeper, sometimes simply on the surface. If the absence of my Moon was not enough of an abscess, then there's another light from which He's kept me unsighted from. Should have seen this coming, but no worry, the potential that He made the premise of my eyes/perspective, would be a goal worth chasing no matter the temporal costs. 

 

As a mechanism of sustaining my being, it has turned out my Gift truly cares. I could not have said with the same certainty a year ago, but it seems I matter to her lol. Alhamdulillah. Despite the degree of difference, it's a breath of much-needed air to have her close to me. The journey is a long one, much is there to be done until we reach its conclusion though. ya Rabb, take care of my beloved, forever and always in all of their affairs, ameen.

Unpresented

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

what a Gift that He gave, like she came from another dimension, words like token fluff for her, while piercing me as daggers sharpened effortlessly unintended. not the first time i live on in the wake of such moments, even after she found realization and an apology sprouted eventually forth...but the rest of me wonders: how long will my nature compel me to keep reaching out, building bridges, when our natures are like fire and ice and scarce able to reach my sought-after level of coexistence? how long do i last, how many breaths, seconds, situations, instances, that i absorb every worded dagger, remembering its pain in the blood so perhaps i build immunity to such inflictions the next time around that qadr decides i haven't had enough to savor? if you knew how i've lately schismed with my Rabb, that He splits me into pieces such as this, keeps me silent from my beacons, taunts me with beauty on my Gift, but beauty that which she is not too fond of having touched or kissed, oft rejected and to me unmissed...the ironies have long torn their way inside, way down deep, every day that passes is one in which this taste lingers, He is the One Who takes and gives, misleads and guides, dooms and gives cause to thrive, yet how often have i longed, to no longer breathe the breath of those caught up in this life? but He has me denied, repeatedly, incessant, pulling me along, to be called a skeleton might be generous, paper is closer to my dimensions, a single plane inscripted by both pen and pencil and easily as pie by His decree i'm overwritten. there is, for such states, for Him, a word the opposite of my nature, opposite of l---, that over my lifetime i've sometimes felt, a word i'd dare not utter, yet absent resonance, i have no nearby beloved, no echo chamber, none to point right the steer of my ship, perhaps counsel with reminder of what i chase, so that word is left as the final taste on my tongue on these days where rain and snow combine to bluster. would He let my beloved pierce this veil, to let shine some brightness through a sky shrouded by storm and shiver? would be nice, now come to me oh sleep, perchance finding rest behind eyes closed and at peace, iA

Evocation

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

sometimes, can see you lying down, in the back of my mind, so comfy and warm, hair spilling freely, surrounding that smile, those eyes, could take this painting in various directions, though most presently, simply i relish potential reaped with time. cannot be rushed, the stroke of the brush, careful at the edges and outlines, boundaries of ink and principle, keeping each shade in its own reason and rhyme. often i recollect how fully He holds our possibilities, knowing well He may choose to keep your touch forever apart from me...but there is a depth, to this ambition, where its scope is so cosmic and perpetual, fear is for the ones lightless, who let this life dim their actions and hopes into earthly terms alone while searing away what could be celestial. not i. rather than by this life, my Rabb often impresses upon my self the worth and beauty of Eternity as the prime choice, the highest of aims, to put the lesser earth in its place. though it's true, as long as He keeps me living, if i needed CPR's resuscitation or an injection of the color my veins are oft missing, i would embrace the mouth-to-mouth and needle with a quickness instinctual, thus erasing any millimeters left between us that counted as "distance". how could anyone else, other than the beloved of my self, understand what it is to be captured by a longing, that looks as tenuous as string but is stronger than steel, impervious to heat and fracture and force that'd break any normal bond made of the menial? just a few shades away is madness, i know it, have seen inside its abyss few times in my life, but it's a pit He's kept me safe from. for which purpose, for which trial He'd taunt or tempt me with next, or simple cataclysm lurking, i could not guess, but i am His, for better and worse, blessed and cooked, with an End i visage encompassed with my beloved...and that is fuel, fuel enough, to keep the starving one fed with crumbs in his dreams, so even if he must, he'll walk across the bottoms of oceans, just to embrace whom He kept once out of reach.

Clouded Spark

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

not quite lost, rather just a little shrouded, we know this as part of life's cycle, ever turning especially into arcs that we've oft despised. how i see it, every heartache and shatter, only turned me into fertile ground for whatever He brought forth in terms of my next chapter, so i ceased trying to grasp or determine if an event was better or worse, and instead just wrapped it all up into the trials of life that He chose for me to traverse. i swear by my Maker, i've long felt those same shards of which you speak (technically, wrote), i know every strand of wishing for dissolution of the self, being free of life's vicissitudes, its shackles, its disappointments and agonies, i wish i could relate to you how often over my lifespan, how deeply i'd desire to be free,...but He never let me, always kept me, tied to the strings eventually trailing to my beloved and a purpose in unification that says to this world, "fuck you, you will never have me, you have never been nor could you ever be enough, so this is why His Jannah is better than you, and that is what i will chase". this life is a fucking travesty of truth, tantalizing us with its potential that it never lives up to, our minds pulling strings in taunting our thoughts in directions too remote, perhaps something He had not willed, trying to delude us into thinking it is truly what we want to be fulfilled. 

 

but, this life cannot sate us, rather it's the fading promise of a dying tree, showing us that it has shade but soon enough it'll lose all of its leaves, offering then no protection to the ones who sought shelter beneath all of its deceit.

 

~

 

pain, a hollowed feeling, the color gray predominating thoughts, loss becoming the lens of one's sight...all of these are part of your challenge my Muse. they tell us we have to let ourselves grieve, to release the emotion in as decent means as possible, to be forgiving to yourself for something you never had control of. 

 

hope, passion, desire, direction, all of these will find their way back to you iA. it will take time and patience and trust/acceptance of His qadr. i've never quite considered myself in terms of being "trusting" in my Rabb, but rather it is submission and acceptance that is most suited to and suitable for the slave towards one's Creator. that is just how it is. without Allah, i am nothing and could find nothing worth meaning. with Him, i would survive my self, this life, and anything else He would have me go through. for dunya, this knowledge is enough.

Life and its constant reminder..

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

..of your absence, of the one who'd love me as i'd love in turn, maybe what a lover seeks most regular, before every sunrise, after every sunset, many parts of me this Life can only fracture, but alhamdulillah at least that the One Who tries me, gave me your visage in which wholeness can be confided. my living is a skeleton, an apparatus constructed of minimalist mechanisms to push and pull and carry behind in a backpack all ambitions, suitable for the nomad who hasn't a home when his beloved are farthest from his touch, farthest from his grasp.

~

..that your silence will always pierce me, "so used to missing" i am, just wish inside that phrase of mine, had alongside it your smile, your lips, to be nibbled upon and sating of desire, not simply physical, but existentially fulfilling in a way twins fully paired might inspire. the only part of my goal on this shitty plane, the only piece of me i could fathom seeing connected (intending no bounds crossed or other bonds severed), is finding your hand encapsulated within mine, the dreamer's dream that gives some fuel as substance for earthly chasing (while never ever never forgetting...that Garden where all our intersections coalesce, iA). 

~

..i am only a phantom, scarcely real, rarely gathered, not in a single place, but across this earth and inside your hearts scattered, so much is there to be felt, but sometimes from the ocean i'm most distant kept, like walking breathing living ice, unmelted because resonance is the fuel of my chest while also too its kryptonite, an absence emptying, but still alh hope remains hydroelectric, because i envision your touch and how everything in me it'd melt, a liquefaction so utterly welcome, no measure of silence or absence could end my chasing until completion becomes our dinner attained.