Of my Sunlight

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

how she elicits affection, with a simple turn of her face in one's direction, eyes capturing the sparkle of marbles in scattering light from wherever it was made to start with, tiny worlds that accentuate her cheeks with a smile, that she, this offshoot of me, then corrals everything precious and perfect within her soul and her every atom's physical substance. my daughter, she is not a beacon like any other beloved, she is her own globe melded and yet separate from mine, lovable and loved in ways inexplicably hers and hers forever uniquely we intertwine. 

and till yet, she hasn't grasped language, imagine what waterfalls and hurricane gusts await when she learns (iA) syllables and diction and vocab and semantics, strategies with things written she'll never need with me as i suspect our resonance will grow organic, innate, as a deeply rooted tree that knows exactly which of its branches flowers in any given instant. my beaconly beloved, especially ones who've closest to my earth laid in orbit, know well my deepest calling has always been for them, for ones who possessed at some level kindling of resonance, emotional and physical and spiritual all at once and only in beginning, some moments i gaze into her orbs and it's like i'll never need to speak a word, ever, for her to know me wholly to my fullest measure. and for her, she has acceptance and an anchor, ever living as her guard against the winds of fate and folly that this life tries its hardest to pull each one under,...she has me as her buffer, much (and even more, iA) how my own father was for me against this world my strongest mortal shelter. alhamdulillah, this word a million-fold, to have tasted such a vision, to be captured and sufficed within an emblem that to me is exactly everything i'd have loved in a child, she has, every element of her being, as if it was created expressly for adoration, facets long ago i fell in love with, so deep a blessing, i could run on and on this sentence, pausing merely for commas or breaths, but the end purpose lingers...alhamdulillah, my counterweight to all the darkness i'd ever known, this ray of Sunlight to pierce every too-dark shade, is her. alhamdulillah, for a beacon of my own blood that is to me as the Sun is for all humanity. 

inKind

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

even though lately you may not see your pseudonyms spread often across these pages, don't think for a second you mean any less to me than you've always been, for what i seek is still the same: a time and place where your being embraces mine in the best of ways. you know the color of my blood, it hasn't changed, even if it lingers long outside my self, where it was born and what gave it strength is quite the same. i could make a list, of every name to you i've given: my Moon, my Love of All Lifetimes, my Muse, others which memory encases and preserves for me to once again mention, when we're no longer distant. i wish i could tell how drift the winds of your days, whether you find more light or what pain flashes across your face, i know, you chose silence as the means of preservation of ties, both past and present, and that choice is the choice of my beloved so it is respected, endeared, within me embedded and thus for you always reflected. my Rabb knows well the pattern of our age, the courses our paths must take, but your initials and essence are eternally tethered, whether i speak or silence reigns across all obvious means of measure. want to write of Tomorrow, more scenes, perhaps depicting precursors to ones i've already written, or further amalgams of how you will drift one Day with all my beloved within my ocean (iA). take care my Muse, may He let what i write be a source of comfort when rest of life turns to ice, a blanket when warmth seems to the season strangest, ma'asalaama