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.
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