Of Sailing and its Vistas

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Of all the conversations he had held with his Creator, perhaps his most anticipated were those he spent learning about the process of creation and the threads which connect energy and matter. This slave was not content with the first impressions of what favor his Maker had written, rather he sought from Him a path to unleash, steadily, an ability to paint canvases of reality in the same vein as writers use words in building their stories. 

To him, these were the moments, endless and infinitely at hand, that he could taste freedom in his soul as freely as he could conceive it in the mind. Its simplest description: an ideal made manifest and eternal. Alhamdulillah.

~

It was a small vessel, not unlike those made for rivers or oceans. Except in this case, they flowed past  stars and other heavenly objects, as if the universe itself was their pond and every sight within, made just to be taken in. 

He had spent a good amount of time planning this particular universe, it was less about people, most about beauty, of capturing the formation of galaxies and different stages of a cosmos. He knew some of the colors that would be coming, and every one was meant for her. She was nestled in his arms, perhaps the most content pair of spoons that ever shared closeness. He knew this scent, how he had come to know it after a lifetime of its absence. Those who never longed for such a thing, might never appreciate its presence. Indeed, his fingers knew who they touched, waiting as embers wish to become magma. As if prescient with his thought, she understood and two strings were plucked in concert. Ahead, there was a large planet whose star was changing phases. They came into its view just over the planet's far horizon as she raised her left thigh, a beloved's invitation, making space for him that he gratefully filled within. The distance between them now zero, this was true proximity, bathed by the glory and light of a star's cascading nova. It was then that their Rabb chose to dilate time, creating for them their own event horizon, simply so they could fuse the chain of breathless instances together into a single, gorgeous memory, ever able to be revisited. If it were just a matter of physics, one might say it was only atoms and neurotransmitters performing their directed function, but it was more. Some part of the equation was metaphysical, combining ideal and realization of pursuit with the rarest form of resonance...utterly whole acceptance coupled with eyes that in their mirrors, saw the best of themselves. 

There was always more to such as what he envisioned, what his future self experienced, but he had no need to write all the tales he planned to live, tales that began with their Creator as origin and objective. If he were made to live a thousand lifetimes, repeating endlessly that darkened decade of mine, where agony of absence and inability to fill the crater left, had to occur over and over again....in order for him to know her like this, he would. Truthfully, she was a reason for him to hold onto His rope, to keep close the Day of Reckoning, because passing through this was the only road that lead to his Creator rather than doom. It's why his choices were so easily chosen, if easy is a word to use for lifelong commitments and simple sacrifices. Their gravity was what mattered, in the scope of time beyond human counting, when our clocks and chips fade to dust, that accounting for deeds is what we will be called back to. 

Ya Rabb, I beg You to be pleased with me at my end, maybe at least so Firdaus ul 'Ala is her sanctuary and our freedom, and for my beloved ummati as well. ameen