of proximity and my Primera

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

7/10

 

wasn't expecting it, but you made it a day i'll always remember, treasure with all of my senses, reminding me with the tips of icebergs, how this life is entirely one beginning. it was a pose, a physical closeness, like a stamp affixed to an envelope, two surfaces fitting so snugly it was evident they were made for such belonging, and i knew in that moment - you were my postage, helping me to get where i'd always been aiming. you may have said you changed your mind, but i haven't, never will iA, my goal is the same; the beacon who stirred me at this journey's start, forever has her place in my sky, where the Garden's comprised simply of beloved and light. hope i can always be a reason for your patience, a reason for breathing deeply and anticipation, of knowing whatever this life causes to part is what akhirah will bring together in His mercy, whole and complete, iA.

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

suppose i knew the day was coming, when the dreamer went back to her slumber, eyes (of writing) now closed so i couldn't gaze in them, catch whatever glimpses i could of her journey and its continuances. alhamdulillah, still preserved much of the historical precedents where the Moon showed her light and every purpose became simultaneously bright(er), so i reach into memory banks, even sometimes forge the Future and her locks of yet unstroked brilliance, cascading raven methinks it is, but certainly closer examination on the couches of silk brocade and elegance is needed. so patience is my elixir, patience is my antidote, it is the cloth of my clothes, the sole of my boot, the weave of my hat, every thread that a human could need or wear, patience must comprise it, for the journey is long, longer than i imagined it could be, longer than 2020 made me think i might live to see, but i swear, feels like He pulls me along simply to be further tested, pulling out every misconception even as disillusion is a color of the skin i can't seem to get rid of, forward is the direction, willing or otherwise, Tomorrow with your bosom, embraced and free of quicksand forever, such is the hope this nomad lives to seek from life.

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

so many shades of resonance...

 

 

 

🏵

hard to tell where i am some days, many days, the one who inhabits my organs and cells isn't quite the me i'd call my self, it's the skeleton, the automaton, the machine made to pull through the muck each of his legs, one by one, until he's able to keep moving along. they can't fathom what it's like to have one like you, even if the orbit's a bit distant, He has let me retain a few hopes, and reunity with you is the spear of the chest that shatters open our cages. i'll live as many paradoxes as i have to, as many as He makes me endure, disseminated often into dust, gotten used to it now, every deed of mine is still that pebble i'm stacking one on top of the other, just so that one Day i get the chance to show Him my mound of pebbles and beg Him to accept something, anything, so i might be able to fill the vast crater that the absence of one's Moon is. be strong, light simply shines, even if i'm far, part of this reflection is what He made of you to me, so relish the echoes in the moments they come, savor their oscillations, like the most serene of breezes, we know these instances aren't yet infinite, but perhaps they should serve as reminders of what our aim is: Then, for ever and always iA.

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

sometimes, wish i could let go all the questions, like unwanted luggage at a train station, forget the insights gained, become a wisp on the wind, a bird on a branch, the grassy blade never having or needing its sheath,...i'm only expressed to a fraction of a percentage, with as much the ones i'm presently surrounded with accept and show their meaning to me, there are moments my hollowness rings back to me, and i can see in part how i found so many beacons over my lifetime....because the searching never ended for me, after the Moon's orbit severed, all of life became the desert with all its sand, and me wandering from well to miles-apart well, glimpses inside my beloved where i longed to settle into, but couldn't, wished to cease my fucking endless trek that has me still walking, aimful but distant, oh so distant. you, all that you are, represent, express, all that you hope for/to give/to receive, i think of mortal strands, it's the only filling that takes the cake, fills it, covers it, the creme de la creme, the holy grail of a lover, finding acceptance and wholeness in the embrace of one's beloved. fam thinks they know me sometimes, it's hilarious lol. if i had the ability, i'd jump out of this earth's orbit and if i didn't find you in these skies, i'd go searching around the rest of the universe to wherever it is you live, and if this universe He'd cause to betray me again, i'd just open a door to another and another until the journey's question was solved and humanly filled. feels so long sometimes, i gotta be like a billion years old by now

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

quietest of quietudes for those who sought and had their reaching turned to dust, before learning water mixes with it to make mud, rebuilding brick by brick that which the fierce shining sun bakes into firmness more firmly again. landslides carry down gently or roughly the foundation of anticipation, a test of His to see which slaves persevere versus drown within cascading waves of inevitability. can't recall how many times He made footing slip, conceptions and hopes burned away as vapor in sunlight, but...He makes me live still, keeps causing me to breathe, alveoli to fill and empty, a loop on repeat, oxygenation against any of my choices or judgments, so the means to mix again still held within these fingers: combining the dust of my deeds + the water from my ocean, whenever i have specks there to feel with, can fashion once again some mud to form with it a brick, lay it on the side of this road towards Tomorrow, day by day trying to build something beyond the limits imposed by yesterday and its loss and sorrow. hurrah, to be one still living, still tested to capacities cared not to have been given but thrust into the middle of, either shoulders made for lifting, or a chest made to carry longing, these echoes of mine are lifelong, one day iA their answer in your embrace i'll find in mirrored song