أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

life ain't got no replacements, real is sometimes lot more than how real gets, sentences shortened by letters in expression of days grinding onward, but He built me stronger than anything i imagined myself as. 

love the fam but they're not my beloved, select is the one tied softly by threads fated and woven, wish i could embrace resonance or acceptance like the level of beacons who held me in mirror reflection, but life is often single screen, single perception, never so much angular confection, as beholding or beheld by one's beloved in arms and bosom. 

love the month of June, your birthday near its peak, maybe open a window, let in a bit of breeze, don't mind the vast corridors of silence that might follow if only in turn a glimpse or scent of how time flows on the other side, the side lucky enough to have your living and breathing within it.

becoming what i have to become, but stoic, holding fast to His remembrance, can't ever forget how He led to me to these moments, blessed by Sunlight perpetual and pumpkinly delight, a Mia worthy of being one's first truly held woman and mother and wife, these treasures He permitted me, paving the way for patience to survive the epochs of absence, the repetition and daily consumption: of platitudes and niceties that normal people use to bridge their gaps of understanding that naturally develop between differences in how they were raised, don't quite care for the superficiality but if it helps others to be a bit more at ease, not really an issue, my vocal cords can evoke the patterns well enough to have them comforted and myself left in peace.

but my beloved, those absent my immediate surroundings, will never forget what it will be like when i can hold you for the first time, Firdausian wishes remain the pillar underpinning hopes of completion, by the mercy and will of my Maker who's gifted and shown anything i know from everything that's His.