أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

625 was yester day, alas for the silence, time kept quiet, so paths might run less worrisome, less stress.

never really thought i sought that much, to know how beloved fare in this world of being apart, but He has His own methods, His own conditions, His own tests He creates of His own volition. this life and its distance, will never seep into my veins and steal away those visions, that He nurtured and brought together from a lifetime of living and learning and reading, parsed so much of meaning, only to ever really desire being in an ocean ever only swimming. 

i don't know if i've been forgotten or remembered, alas, a lover wishes only the latter, even if it means having lived a lifetime as embers nigh spent into ash floating into winds gently as ether. but here is a record, of who i was, whom for me matters. that once my own bones find their earthen home, beloved who stay behind know forever their place in my central (heart's) chambers. 

my Moon, she made existing effortless, easy, as a vision, only once eclipsed, by Sunlight that honestly puts all the universe to shame with her own twinkling. but you will shine again inshaAllah. if He has ever loved me, i will hold you for the first of many, many times. and what i know of Him, how this road shapes, how He has never let me go, that they say only ones He loves are such blessed. supposition? i don't think it, all i can reflect on is my past, but i also know i have no guarantee of anything. having been brought to dust and finer still, too many times to count, i possess nothing quite like "trust". it is submission, the prostrated face of a slave on the earth, because his aim came from his Maker, and He is the sole one to bring it fruition. 

i hope your fingers have just a few new marks, at least from that guitar and its strings, tunes softly tugged, to let escape what's held within. 

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

wish i was the wind, free, ungrounded, ready to lift you up into the clouds on a whim, no barriers, no resistance, no gravity as enemy rather recreating its axis on top of a whole new paradigm's direction. i would have settled for only knowledge, knowing how you're doing, simple, uncomplicated methinks, but this life has for me no such semblance. the ocean ceases flowing, kept to stillness, like a pond wishing it could just rush into the currents of the nearest lake that light shined from. 

~~~

so many things felt on various other topics, mostly world affairs, but i think one thought predominates: this life is not ours to own, or scarcely even ours to live. this time is borrowed, from Him, the One Who owns us and all creation. this time was given as a test, and this place is only that. sometimes the nature of humanity stoops so low that what happens is beyond barbarism, so entirely full of blindness tainted in arrogance and casual cruelty...there is an end to this. life is but a trial, a container of them, hundreds and thousands and millions of trials we encounter in our lifetimes. 

we were not given the power to change the nature of life, though i know many would choose to struggle to change it anyway, at least to oppose the tyranny. few mortals have ever found it endearing to be slaves, and i could probably count on one hand how many would be willing to submit to His decree as it unfolds before their eyes, when it encompasses as much injustice and oppression as we've seen. 

the more a person becomes enchanted by this existence, the more one's eyes are confined by its vision, the greater importance it ends up holding, far more than what it actually is. the shortness of life, is not a testament to how much it should be lived to its fullest, but rather a witness to its insignificance. this earth was never made to be our Garden, just it looked like it, on occasion, on the surface of it. its pains, tragedies, sorrows, are all finite, as is our time in it. 

i know, my position isn't for everyone. but i learned long ago my lessons, and my path towards Tomorrow. the one for whom this life is his/her dream and cherished hope, will have it crashed and burnt soon enough. the only pursuit which can endure is that aim which resides near to Allah, to Whom is the return of everything. 

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Strange are the times of life when much can be felt, and thus one might think much written, but there isn't. Many emotions surface from the depths, and sink back into their origin, without ever meeting the light of day, without ever finding expression. There is so much I could write about, the changing directions of fatherhood and the kind of beauty my Sunlight is. I could write of my Love of All Lifetimes, and her once having spoken of being "eclipsed" by the aforementioned bright one. Or about the endless irony of loving a Gift whom my Rabb created as one opposite of me, how the contradictions I have to lay seamlessly together, like a farmer who knows the seeds he's working with need each their unique nourishment and he cannot water any two seeds the same. Or how many flashes of light and brightness, that He brought to my vision, then sooner or later took away from sight, so that names and memories and hopes I have, but nothing more. 

I could write of the questions held inside my chest, unanswered expect by facing my own worst case scenarios. Of not knowing whether the echoes inside of me still have their home inside those who claimed connection to my soul. Resonance, that old nemesis, evasive and unknowable, all of the scribbles on the wall of my cave, continue written without reply, because the paths we take...He decreed them separate. If you delve too long on this point, it's enough to bring about its own chasm and become as potent a reminder of the past as a blade is of slicing through vessels. I am no stranger to that though. 

I want to meet you all again, each of you. One I knew for mere minutes, others for decades, some at the surface but glimpsed far beneath, and others just projections of hopes and anticipation. My experiences shape me, as all of us are, by the sum of our choices and natures finding expression, one way or another. 

I could choose to let go of my long-stated dream of reunification, perfect coexistence and reconnection with my beloved. But I will not. This life and its death are so utterly finite and without capacity, it would be the height of travesty to let my vision fade due to something so limited. So, by His grace, the vision remains, a Garden among all Gardens. I don't know if He will allow me to find it, but if there was anything, ever, worthy of being pursued, any destination worthy of being found, of being called Home, that is it.