أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

from a couple days back, written while struck with some inspiration at work:

___

 

you would think that he’d have guessed it, that someone who found Love, tries to hold it in permanence,

not simply let it fragment, sharded into billions of pieces, faded by the river of time,

but I guess he couldn’t see it, I suppose I couldn’t have explained it, seemed to me as something entirely intrinsic, not requiring an explanation, for what kind of a lover would wish to lose what could not be replicated by any other of flesh and bone?

Some resonances, I’ve learned, are utterly unique, even as traces of you I found in other of my beloved, your acceptance and wholeness, it was exactly what I sought, and you, the mortal He created, the only one who showed it- implicitly without wondering or questioning or asking, and so to you such an acceptance I gave, it’s always been yours, on wavelengths that needed no sentences or even breaths to dignify the reasons behind the meaning or the desire in our utterances.

so many blessings abound, may He forgive me when sometimes I focus on your memory a bit much, truly it’s this life that is the dream, and Then the reality that we await for scent and touch, after knowing just one death, the doorway of meeting that all must sooner or later walk out of. 

___

not sure if that came off quite the way i wanted it to, but i think it gets enough of the point across. these days are their own kind of trial, the monotony of the grind, intermixing within the currents of daily life at a level that my old self would have balked at, it is something like progress. or at least that's what onlookers might say. i see it still as survival, because much of me is trapped from the ones presently nearest. this place is as much my 'cabin in the woods' as anything else, a spot to release and record and perhaps have something reach you across the divide of space and time. 

 

how do my beloved fare? it's a recurring question. almost an echo in the back of the mind. i never got to record your voice like i would have liked, and auditory memory seems to be the hardest to grasp, for years at a time anyhow.  

alhamdulillah, the path forward goes.