of intents, for a beacon to-be-renamed

أَعُوذُ بِٱللَّهِ مِنَ ٱلشَّيۡطَٰنِ ٱلرَّجِيمِ، بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

once Maahiyum

to pick a word as summary, beginning and ending, of what it was i sought and seek still, from moments long since past, to moments yet unfilled, i wish to be your libaas, your mortal shelter....when all the world and its nature, shows you its truest colors: cold, callous hypocrisy, imitating of meaning only shells, then one amongst His creation, would be your haven, your counterpoint in which to safely dwell. 

i don't know if such a thing can be understood, outside of calamities, outside of amalgamations of resounding grief,...absent such types of tragedy and pain, how else would we as humans value serenity and peace? 

in your case, i cannot say if i will be accepted, if i will find the twin of my aims in mortal life reflected, and this gave me cause for reminiscent anguish, that i've felt few times as forever being enough. would i alter my course? not in the slightest, His gifts have abounded me, He has sufficed me utterly and wholly, and howsoever the future paves, it takes not away from whom is worth knowing.

for as long as breath remains, a writer writes, of aims and their price, the cost is everything submitted, to see what He lets grow from life.