a daylight dream

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 dissolvi...

  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 helpl...