a daylight dream

  My mind asks me, what’s after this? The heart sees an eternal void. A slip into the unknown. Sliding across what has healed into all what is incomparable. A crafter of dreams, I remain unknowing. I do not know much after what becomes when we find ourselves through each other’s melting eyes. But I know this. I know some seasons. I know our first season— brokenness. It may take some time for us to truly get into the world as normal beings. It may take some time for us to do, not until we learn the language of our truth— nobodies. How glory shall melt our form into an arduous disbelief, a heavenly state of bliss that wakes in its nothingness and sleeps to see a humanness striving to do something. It will take some time in weakness, grappling, learning not to resist. Gazing into each others eyes and receiving what we have always known. Silence. A multitude of it. It might be a timeless eon of us both lying on the ground, in wordlessness, trying to understand. It might be the painful asce

  I am noticed in the parts, described without description and identified without identity. A mirror image of truth I seek, and its perfection alight. Mountain after mountain— and I have not reached. But I shun it all aside. On this mountain I’m so alone in the illusion that this traversing is one of solitude and separation.  How much I need you.. This heart dies when your voice fades and I forget the fine lines of your face. This loving greenness in my chest dies down when you’re not dwelling there in its meadows, watching you while you lie, restful and at ease. My sun has set and I’m lifeless in my weakness. How this brokenness fills me with a humble beginning to keep turning towards you to get a glimpse of meaning for this life. You are the face of love, of service, of dissolution towards an intention to transform this ground— to leave it golden with the rivers that rippled us here. And without this dream, I’m left in my circles of what’s inscrutable, the secrets, the darkness that

The year is ending, alas, and I’m here, at zero, with a smile, at the beginning and the end. The isthmus that is so uncertain, bubbling with expeditions the soul longs to travel towards wholeness and perfection. I do not have much to say about 2022. It’s been a year entitled by softness— finally, a glimpse of it. Just one glimpse and not more. A glimpse that was able to seep through and melt all the harshness away, but not long enough just so that the sweetness of longing prevails. I don’t have much to say about 2022 for all of it simply melts into the beauty of what’s been manifested. Every moment was in its right place. My heart has travelled across so many horizons— I’ve learned and lost all my learnings each time a new horizon is seen. Today feels like losing everything, I often feel like I’m not sure who I am anymore. Every time I begin to understand, it sheds off me, this ephemeral knowing, and one surrenders to not knowing, and it’s okay. In 2022, it was a climb: intense, a brea

I walk in heaven with silent footsteps. Trails of light scintillate before me, and I keep walking, unrestful. I’ve felt these eternal waves of undying gratitude before. All shimmers in mercy and tears form rivers— the tears of those who have never been so infinitely faithful. I still walk, my heart climbing against the veils. I need to see you.  Where are you?  I’ve been from home to home, one infinite continuum higher than the other. Still, I can’t stop climbing. Not till I find you. There is so much light here— but I’m still a shadow. Oh, I’m still poured in with shadows, the glimpses of myself remaining. How can I rest when I cannot see your face? Just one gaze from you, and no more.

  I wake upon the gentle, chiming notes of my blackbird of love. the perfection of notes pulsating across the darkness of veils around this heart. you’re here, love. I’ve missed you. you’ve been gone all summer once the source of all blessings was deemed forgotten. now that it’s vacantly lifeless and dim, you’re here once more.    a frequency of light midst the tragic blues. a highlight so pure amid the pages of time. I’m so silent now, my dearest blackbird. so silent. not one word can truly chisel the whereabouts of inscrutable meaning that reverberates around meaning itself. so, in the darkness of this season, I silently wait to learn a song akin to yours. a song of softened grace. a gift of non-doing. the patience of lovers— a river of golden light that never runs dry. it knows the chimerical beauty of the right time. it is an occupation till it dissolves in perfection and encounters, alas, the golden ground. my blackbird, I owe you, in time, a song of a heart dissolving into eterna

  when will melts and dissipates and the only presence on this shore is deeply-rooted faith that nothing I’d do means anything, what’s torn finally makes itself known. behind the delusional veils of self, something nudges me into believing that it is I that has leaped into this ocean. but it’s not. this is when I’m traced back to undying truth. when the eyes see in limitedness, photons of light settle into a muddy surviving, time-bound frequency. I’m always taken back to what I’ve done, and what I keep doing, convincing myself that it is that which pushed me into depths so wildering.  this is when I stand in now, watching, the strings swinging me from everything to nothing. will I dwell in soft non-doing this time to see truth?  or will I cheat myself into the cycle of finite understanding once more? all is meant to return back to a vacant source.

what are we waiting for but the learning of surrender, the intimacy of truth, its passion erasing, melting, soothing all that was into a becoming so soft. my love, listen to this heart.. it speaks of stories untold. the way each word spoken becomes an airplane ride and never a station.  climb, climb, climb— to words softer than the gentlest piano chimes. the faded winter sunrise. your fingers in mine. readied for a light beyond this, does an intention to surrender your heart still whisper to you, sometimes? breathing into unknowingness till we forget to call for time. we’ll hear its sweetest melody. we’re enveloped in grace of receivership until then. " الجنة   و   هي   كون   من   الأكوان،   لن   يدخلها   أحد   بعمله .. فكيف   بحضرة   المحبوب؟ لن   تدخلها   بعمل   أبداً .. إنما   هي   وهب . لا   كسب   فيها،   و   لا   تكسب،   و   لا   اكتساب ."

  لا   تتفوه   إلا   بإشارات   قلبك   و   نح ن   ماكثون   في   ديار   الحب . لا   تجعل   بينا   كلام   إلا   و   في   اخره   تتخلي   عنه   بقبلة   وداع   اشتياقا   لعودة   بحور   الصمت . لا   ترمز   للحق   و   أنت   ماض   في   الحب ..  فإن   احببتني   صرت   الحق   في   كل   شئ .  إن   ظننت   أنك   قريب،   فأنت   في   القرب   بعيد ..  لا   تظن ..  كن   معي .  كن   في .  كن   لي .  كن   بي . لا   ديار   بعد   الآن   إلا   في   قطرة   رحمة   تنساب   إليك   لي   يا   حبيبي ..

  لا   حول   و   لا   قوة   إلا   بالله   يا   حبيبي .. I often ask myself what it is I’m waiting for. why is that I’m waiting when the day I could see this truth could be anytime I decide. it often appears as if it’s all in my hands. but my soul feels the sweetness of the wait. the timeless patience is savoured drop by drop. this body knows the dryness of nature when it’s under this mind’s control. this soul is waiting for the gift to orchestrate it all. the gift of His clarity, His will, His absolute loving glory as it becomes into being. sun-like, beaming being. this soul waits, drowning in the rivers of love. it knows the ripples are there, and that they’ll meet one day and it never amounts to the force of my swim. the foreordained has its own reverent time, its own sacred space. it only can be touched when received with soft-spoken grace. and this season taught me that no matter how much we shift this torque towards doing, the more helpless we’ll be.  my hand in yours— sacredness

Home? Where is home? As long as those eyes are dully awake, busied, forgetful, it’s never home. As long as this body roads and intersects the times and spaces in limitless orchestration, as long as there is still one place more, one moment more— this isn’t home. Where am I? Where is the real I? Where am I when I’m not home? Oh God, it’s hard to feel at home here. I thought love would bring me a blissful peace. There’s a sacred stillness before sunrise when love is all that You are, all collapsing and deflecting form beyond form. When the light is here, all rises in chaos to be the perfect representation of You. Every atom toils. Every particle screams. Intention after intention, running out of breath just to sink down in never-ending gratitude. Nothing can ever rest till it meets You.  My heart is not enough for You. It turns with every beat— there must be a sacred place where Love is unchanged forever. I radiate with your Light but still it dies in me sometimes— how sweetly foreordain

  this season, my heart simply beckons and surrenders being followed. At times, ease flows effortlessly, reminded by love. Other times, fear steps in and rips off faith so harshly off my chest, leaving whirling black holes of darkness suffocating the gratitude I have learned to associate with every breath. this season is essentially so painfully beautiful— the duality of a world of reason, and a world of grateful love. it is a miraculous shift in perception to gaze at diabolical mishaps in this world, its painful dissolution towards chaotic unknowns, and to still deem it as a gift. a beautiful, unconditional  gift . the more I see the children around me immersed in the pain of unknowing, diseased mindsets and too much noise, the more I’m drowned by how helpless I am in the midst of all this. every year, it is harder to maintain the gratitude with the immense number of challenges pouring in, begging me to unlearn everything I’ve known and to start anew.  but it is gratitude. in the hear

  When it’s December and sunrise takes its time, the before of waking means so much. The aloneness of stillness, in my room, in the gentle radiating waves of night light doing the best it could do to seep these words out of my heart. I see myself more clearly now. I see the aching heartbeats that intensify when they’re loaded with deflected intentions manoeuvred by an ever-changing world. I skim through my day and a longing dazzles me— a longing to meet the truthful me in every moment of the day. This softened soul speaks ever so gently, still it is a scintillating light which shivers whenever there is a looming darkness. Before sunrise, it is the perfect time. I can see how it shivers swiftly, and my whole body shakes in tears, in confusion, in how much I long for the clarity of my love. I meant it, my dear one. I meant it when it is the dream that ignites every part of me to use this world in worship. It’s the dream to meet Him, and you, and a mirror of love in the hereafter. Without

you made out of this garden  a mirror-image of heaven gazing at your face every reason fading between us here it is, a soulful peace then there are the tears that would never leave  the mornings when the sun of forgiving was seen I saw dying when we went fruit-picking where we dropped all our worldly clinging the mist falls on me now I’m in a river where love sounds  do you cry, too, sometimes when a fractal of my presence lies next to you while all clinging dies