Grammatical

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

so busy, so much thinking, planning, so many angles and sub-objectives, matters needing attention, ideals to be manifested, durability and longevity, endurance against obstacles and elements, of the self and one's home, issues of foundation, things to be fixed and brought up to spec, so much by which to be distracted, reasons these well and good, but so does my study and work pursuit need its own mention, not simply that which i leave for the end of sentences. 

for the beginning of paragraphs, reservations made for beloved, ones kept internally simmered, slow cooking but unreleased, many emotions and reunities waiting their turn for embrace at the gate of Peace. plenty of questions unanswered, silences kept for reasons likely fair and well-intended, doesn't quite stop the question mark from being so piercing with tiny cuts where ignorance is a dam long since opened and flooding to the limit of my cognizance. 

the road is long, longest for the lovers who try holding true to the highest of objectives, their Maker first and forever, followed thereafter by mortal beloved whose trailing absence is as periods or commas sequential, indicative of foretelling, foreshadowing, but these eyes too shortsighted to see all the wisdoms that He placed within my every circumstance, alhamdulillah regardless, among my recently learned lessons, are these:

i can never remain distant of Him, never upset or so fraught with disillusion and malcontent that i would turn away from caring for remembrance, that in my overwhelmed moments, rather than away - towards my Maker must i turn first, lean on Him to account for all my weaknesses, all potentials unreached or reaching, all mistakes and sins in days past i let cloud vision. i think my need of my Rabb surpasses any other mortal, so deep it is, my own capacity by self-conflict inhibited, held myself back in so many ways on levels sometimes forgotten how deep, how old they persisted, but Future's sway is brightest, longest lasting, strongest, so the road of Tomorrow is where the nomad's steps keep walking, ever for his sought the seeking. 

Reflecting

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

have i seen all there is to see? 

have i been all there is to be?

have my fingers felt the touch

of the one who gave of herself unasked,

implicit, 

without question,

without directive,

without knowing she'd be laying down the seeds

for my future self to still be growing with?

even as my littlest beloved, my Sunlight, 

she who was borne from within the ocean,

could say her eruption was volcanic, unpredicted,

she whose every motion, sneeze, cough, gesture,

is cause for elation,

even as i've lived long enough to kiss Sunlight,

and know the taste of cheeks like clouds of cotton candy,

and swear that's all i'd ever need ever after,

it never escapes attention,

never is a thing forgotten,

of how i came to such a point

from my very beginning,

which beloved it is i'm missing, absent,

whose pieces in me, are preserved in etches incomplete,

as paintings He has seen fit to pause mid-stroke, 

for these eyes He gave some vision of potential,

what grows from elements combined,

possibilities that remain yet unshown. 

these days, the trial changes, not just of entering

parenthood,

but searching for my place on this planet,

somewhere i could internalize a bit of belonging, 

and become as a father and husband is commanded to offer,

but...such fullness of responsibility evades me, 

acceptance, on so many different levels rejection and denial,

it's the tune of my tale, long since repeating, 

no matter the altered setting or style,

could be a beloved and unasked for silence,

or an employer choosing someone else to hire,

the end result is a sensation familiar,

oh so familiar,

and almost i'm recalled to various epochs of the darker years

of my own evasion and hiding, but now truly knowing

there is nowhere to go but forwardly-trying,

for Sunlight must be tended,

much like the vine upon whom roses grew unbounded, my Mia,

stepped over obstacles and oceans, to side with the nomad

for as long as He'd have him breathing. 

alhamdulillah, gratitude i neglect, forgive me ya Rabb, 

i walk, unable to look much beyond in the distance

unknowing absolutely which choice is best

but perhaps, You would shower this slave with mercy

he who sought and seeks with well intent

simply his beloved, wrapped with Eternity met.