conceiving the Two Rivers

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

 

survival is a long, long road. it doesn't consist of just one stop sign or one intersection, but the journey itself is littered with obstructions, at every corner and bend imaginable. in small but consistent ways, i evolve. for me, every evolution is primarily about perspective, expanding it, accepting the various factors that my Rabb incorporated into this life, aspects that weren't chosen but rather exist simply to be overcome. 

 

living, going onward, chasing, enduring, having enough fuel enough for the trip.

 

all of this, reminds me of a man who has at his right and his left, two rivers. he is in a boat, and one paddle must dip into the river Now and the other paddle must dip into the river Tomorrow, and only in that way, right and left followed by right and left, does the steer of the ship remain straight; only in this way, might his mind be able to keep sane. 

 

consequences and needs worldly, of sustenance and taking part in earning and supporting and caring...must combine with consequences and needs otherworldly, of intent and action and remembrance of one's Maker and His Rasool (saw). 

people might look at this and wonder, of course this is so, how could it have taken you so long to reach this? they might not know how deep my internal resistance ran, how long and often i kept distant from being too closely tied to this earth. right now, it doesn't feel like i've overcome anything, rather just that i accept (maybe even embrace) treading through this reality, taking in what it is without separating myself from it cognitively. possibly this was at the root of my lifelong dissonance, but also acceptance entails being okay that dunya and i will simply always be different. i will try to never be absorbed by it, or drowned in it, but it is a bewildering swamp that He decreed i walk through, so my steps will be in it, whether my liking is there or not.

i do love rivers. though not all such bodies of water are created equal. an ocean, freshwater, would still be my preference. sometimes i am emptied of this wish, emptied of the ones who fill it, emptied of the Muse that enlightens it,..but this is okay too, the journey is a long one, and iA it's gonna rain sooner or later

Evident

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

 

hard to quantify a Gift when it's such a blessing, on rainy days or shine, she's my Remedy for moments when life too bleakly gleams to these ever-insufficient eyes. life is His test, even in matters where a layer is (nearly) ripped straight off the chest, wonder how i should think of my perception when He brings me to envision, then turns out the lights on me as if i'd never seen a single moment living. i want to say that every effort i made towards my beloved was sufficient, sufficing, that what i emanated was deserving and reciprocated, but the purest truth is both sides of this coin aren't quite fully minted, that we mortals are merely gems that His qadr turns us to be more brightly polished. one particular beacon, on this cool and windy evening, shines much farther distant, almost escaped from clutches, but i would keep whole the dna of all my experiences, not spliced through indecision, and though His trials in this life might put on the courtroom's stand all the truth of what i'm chasing, it's fine, sooner or later, all i truly want, that in front of Him my essence might be worthy proven. my beloved may shut their doors on me, might close their windows and blind the shutters, throw away her phone and hide beneath her covers, but i'd not erase her place that etched itself from my history into the Sky i'm always reaching towards. this dreamer must onward dream, loving even as his komality pushes all tolerance past its limit, this is what the test is: when atoms start to fade, we persevere and step always forward faced. 

Quoted

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

"every woman wishes she was the K of someone"

 

so it was that someone said, words i didn't ask for, but acknowledgement given, that the kind of treasure my Muse is, an ideal savored by women: to be so loved and soaking in seekingful affection. 

 

in my darkest days, He made your past memory and future hope the glue of most better choices i chose, eventually the lever in 2015 to push forward and begin healing the consequence of parting and distance that had long found their way inside my cells, settling into being. but Purpose, an aim and goal to surpass and suppress worldly chains and holes, that is what i needed most, that is what He fashioned from your essence, to have sought and lost and tasted again the surface with some depth, kept just out of reach over and over in instances most mortals would call instant precursors of regret, but for you, the Red of the blood, colored heme of the globin, what you meant and mean, the last human torch, to keep precious flames awoke when so often this life would drive them to sleep. 

some days, many days, i no longer know how to express the states of absence, of swallowing the trials and parting, knowing a bit of His devising, walls and obstructions and tests, meant to see which of us is best in deed, continuously, but from whence does one manufacture motivation, ambition? when routine itself becomes the sleepy draught to cause loss of remembrance, making movement mechanical? revival i need, but your visage seems He will confine within my dreams, maybe thy speech, recorded had i found, could replay on endless loops, wishing those guitar strings were instead your words plucked from places within i strive to reach, one day, iA

Undreamt? of twinshiplessness

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

maybe she was a dream? did i wake up day, fashion her straight out of the things these eyes are prone to see? it wasn't me that gave her her name, or brought her orbit at first near, it wasn't me that struck that first chord, that would make revisitation seem all so dear, but...it was He Who struck the bell of clarity inside my head, to open sight and show that what i fathomed this beacon was not yet, nor might ever be. 

oh nameless twin, i don't know your dna, though i wish i did, i don't know the thoughts or values that you hold close, your existence was as a mindscape or circus, but for me the visitor closed. find your road, know your choices will follow you as effortlessly as air finds your lungs, no escaping those atoms of consequence, for they are the means this life is spun out of. this is not a breaking, you matter not that much, as those beacons He made for me before to love. as from me it flowed, so too from them i could sense, what it was to matter, seeking and sought, mutually worthy of being longed for: such interstitial, mirroring sentiments underpin that ever so elusive acceptance...that you never had or could show this twin who for now remains as twinless. forgive me should these words cut, some wounds must be excised from the surface of the soul, where deep down they stirred uncounted possibilities that i now know exist, and so twinship in that Garden with His chosen will i seek to hold, iA.

 

 

Variance in Altitude

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

It's been almost a year and a half since my Gift professed her desire to be my Mia, subhanaAllah what a moment that was. Now the title is hers, though how strange it is for someone so gorgeous and evocative to be so out of attunement with her own impact. Well-acquainted is the one who envisions and imagines to the reality of a state being far from its potential, but a handful of peaks and many pleasant slopes are enough to make certain that I remember the wisdom of my Rabb in what He decrees. This life and its purpose should not be condensed into a search for the single moment of validity or presumed excitement. A measure of contentment, once found, becomes the bedrock for sustenance, for progressing onward, pushing on in the days when all we want to do is just fall into bed and sleep. 

Alhamdulillah for such fuel, for all that it is. I suppose it would be egregious of me to wish also to know how fare all my beloved, even as tiny parts of their lives I know, there is so much I do not. Being part of them, knowing their struggle and joy, that would be sufficient. But He decrees for me further silence, a statement the tongue wishes would just shackle it in permanence already, to diffuse all my speech internally because the ones I want to reach, He keeps in so far an orbit from me. How might they come to know what I want them to hear? Of beloved unwritten, for whom time passes and their conditions change, up to down and down to up. Were He to give me multiple lifetimes to keep on writing, keep on trying to get something across, I would be unable. The only cure, my only cure, is proximity. Everything other than that, is an illness and ailment, a malady that runs its circles around me, but one day iA, sooner or later, the fever's gotta break.

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

alhamdulillah, it's nice those days where the excitement of potential is something alive, active in the back of the mind. inshaAllah such a road could materialize in the near future. something my Rabb paved the way for, but as always He has reminded me, for these eyes of mine....their sight and the things i envision, are as much as a test as would be fruition of those aims. it's happened countless times before, and i expect it to be my state in this life. but, there are rare occasions, where proximity becomes a real possibility, and for the one who has become defined by whom he's absent from, that is always worthwhile. keep me ya Rabb, no matter where the days ahead of me curve.