أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

 

 

know what's strange? no matter how big the ocean gets, no matter the potential wonder at holding my littlest beloved, no matter how many joys i might have close, there are still some candles waiting to be lit, in the backdrop of my mind? and so they cast their emptinesses around the walls of my inner sanctum, reminding me i have not yet been accepted, because such a moment only comes when i can hear your voice again, calling me so that i can answer it, that i can be lifted again by recollection of this one crazy person, who dared to love that bumbling idiot way back in their early adolescence, she who read the most epic of tales and whose imagination ran wild and free as the wind even though, for the world in which she lived, her surroundings oft may have felt like her own prison...in her mind, fueled by what she'd read, was a heart kept free, fearless though it had parted, from the one in whom acceptance was embraced implicitly, the comma of a sentence without pause, you're my undercurrent when everything on my surface is merely the automaton going through motions as life brings worries and stress in layers like snow that's balling. 

breathe light oh beloved, it's only in the state of being broken that we can turn to our Rabb, as His most needy of servants, and such is the truth He wills to persist- pain and affliction is often the basis of submission, for if we had no need, or no loss, or nothing missing, would we ever feel inclined for supplication? 

our threads are interwoven, even as His designs cut us out from proximity or knowing how you fare in this moment of time....this nomad remembers, the End he seeks from his Maker, the one where you held his hand, enveloped him in embrace, spoke to him some words it matters not what, for they fell from those lips, that to him had in his past life, become something of myth...but Reality, the ultimate state of things beyond the edge what these eyes see, that's where my aim rests, inside your arms, your bosom, where my peace is whole, full, right in place.