a daylight dream

  a miracle has happened, and still my mind is feeling so much awe at how it all has blossomed like spring into my life, embroidering visions of transformative change across the fabric of this existence. lately, I’ve been dissatisfied with my work environment. the office politics and the limiting energy that stagnates potential from rising. I’ve been feeling lonely and locked in my place, my energy wasted on remaining unaffected by the waves of negativity abound. I somehow decided to apply for different positions in different schools, despite none of them appealing to my work ethic. I couldn’t find much congruence but decided to go for it anyway. I did the demo and the interview, had eye-opening discussions and was even accepted. last night, I prayed for God’s guidance and intended to remain in choiceless awareness. I awoke to a day filled with unimaginable synchronicities.. the dream of creating my own role within an organisation. my school is expanding and so, there will be a new man

you know there’s a thin line between dreams and what is real; pencilled, sketched, rugged. and you know that most of the strength goes to know you’re holding on to more than just invisible strings.. and you know how arduous it is to keep holding on to faith without a journey of waltzing our shadows towards the light. and I need your help holding on. I need you to wake to the stark truth of it. to embody it. to fight for it. just the same as I need to heal the shadows in me hiding in the secret alleyways of the dark. just as I need to become a sacred home. the sunlit radiance of gratitude. the receiving ground on which divine dreams can sprout. there are truth-ward journeys this cannot work out without. the sweetest hoax I believe in

  am I allowed to miss you? am I allowed to miss the mirror I could see the world through ever so shamelessly? am I allowed to wish I could do just one thing to dream of closeness.. am I allowed to feel the eternal sad darkness of universal nightlife combined— that my life is so scarred, and that I’m so deeply flawed.. and I am allowed to love the wholeness of it just the same? to accept the bounds, mounts and narrow-vision gateways. and am I allowed to live the miracle of accepting transcendence? am I allowed to wonder if those dreams could ever touch the light on your face, and make you feel— so much, too much. the significance of you mirrored in an explosive universal love. transforming every particle of time into a ritual of ethereal magnificence. that you’re so real. so dear.. the truest you. the self-forgetting shadows embraced into meaning harmonised in between what it’s here for. am I allowed to dim my hope and forsake dreaming? for in each one now, I’m meeting you before the p

disappear as much as you’d like—  from my gaze to your wandering eyes.. I find that no matter how much these words of love are silenced, and no matter how long our eyes are closed by the shutters of distance— we find home. ever so effortlessly, we tiptoe back in, open doors, wide windows and adoring skies. and home begs to be more than a metaphor. and it chose me. once it has received its one loving dweller, how can its light dim? it chose me, despite feeling so far away from home. so far from hearing those footsteps settling in. this heart foresees a garden, but has forgotten how to seed. how to thread pieces of embroidery. how to simmer fragments of sweet memories. and my lilting melodies unmoored, I move forward to my healing climb. at least till this heart learns to choose this body and call it what always longed to be called— home. a haven. a temple. a paradise. an avid listener of poetic, romantic rhymes. an ode of blessings running through its sky. my home is gratitude. deeper s

when your heart smiles, where does home take you? in that eye-to-eye stillness, hands held intimately, a stream of forgiveness. a budding leaf springs anew, meeting the sun. meeting the vastness of isness. the connectedness of the timeless  be—  and falling in love. when you remember dying and all returns to an intention lived from within. your cloud hums like a fresh drizzle of rain on thirsty fields. how I dream of this garden of love.. the vastness of what grows when we break apart. the gaze lighting up a million forsaken sparks. the wholeness of being seen, not for our fragmented parts.. and the glimpse of remembering that it’s His adoring love the fields between our hearts. melting into the truth of it, wide eyed, breaths deeply eased.. how so vast..

your brightest star needs this callous sky, this eluding climb high and universes in between. your brightest star needs the connectedness blooming from being a part of everything, the momentary nourishing stream of surrendered being.  the intimate detail. the infinite touch. an otherworldly embrace with the light in all aliveness abound. your brightest star asks you to feel it. to feel it slow, to dig the hollow vessel in which through all can flow.  your brightest star asks you to revere pain and love alike. one cannot transmute toward the other without you being there, a loving conduit of truth. your brightest star asks you to  be — do not fear yourself. do not fear your truth. trust that feeling it wholly is  right .  your brightest star asks you to be one.. and not fear.

  interbeing . I keep falling in love with this word, this notion, deeply diving into it, till I become it. is there a separate self that exists outside of what becomes? could we even force ourselves into life without being what we are forcing?  I feel at times that I forget this. sometimes I go back home lost for what to do the next day, forcing ideas in my head to make them happen. I don’t notice that each time I go with force and fear, I become them myself. I notice the rigid pain in my gut, a recurring pain enclosed in a thick shell of impermeability. a swollen vessel hardened with rust. I, too, have become it, somehow. I’ve ignored it for too long until it has metastasised to a pain my body cannot bear without suffering.  you’re so afraid, sometimes. you’re afraid of failing. you’re afraid you’re not giving it your all. you’re afraid of all the expectations you have for yourself— the ever-fluid creativity, the poetry at your fingertips that you’ve somehow lost and all the lose thr

of course I am lost, but it does not mean i am forsaken. free falling into this uncertainty of having a purpose beyond myself, I feel the subtlety of being held, enveloped by the ceasing of never ending worries.. of course I am lost in forsaking all my words, and never finding time long enough to reach a silence so deep, welling a boundless bouquet of more.. I’m lost in separation and found in oneness. I’m lost in myself and found in everything. in the minuscule drop that contains me, I have lost my essence finding it in the mirror.. is it true that this is no longer about me? that it’s no longer what these words and hands can do? is it true now that freefalling into the precious now is all there is to be alive for? then I am lost..  I am lost . a heart never ceases being reminded of you, dear one. there is a mind in all of this instructing it to keep it away.. in the silence of it, the sacredness remains.

first came the bout of cold, passing through it as fast as i could. somehow, speed was necessary this week. time was perceived unmercifully, and despite the longer bus rides, i was not able to truly linger in restfulness. even the early, springtime walks were rather unlively, occasionally adorned by a few tears— the tears of feeling out of place. i’ve been wondering lately if i’m in the right place. often, i feel that my daily doings are erratically unpurposeful, feeding an unconscious stream of doing that does not see the light. this kind of feeling drains me to the point of exhaustion, to the point where it was arduous to wake in the morning. it’s my first time to take a day off work. i've been waking in tears of fatigue this week, my whole body aching, my heart almost dead. it’s my first time in so long not to feel the passion oozing in my veins to meet the new day, and it hurts. i am still unsure what i’ve done to create this aching soulful fatigue. it’s the afternoon and i’ve

do you still read the poetry of spring in your eyes, love? are you still a maddened lover in sleepless worlds, longing your dance, a flame burning air alive? how it hurts me when you forget your truth.. how it hurts my heart when you forsake our heavenly dream of eternal bliss.. a lover knows a lover’s heart, reckons it at once.. the childlike innocence weeping for a sweeter solitude of two souls loved as one.. have you forgotten the child in you that embraced my heart amid the garden of fruit blossoms, dear? oh, don’t tell me you did.. the bliss of love, the sacred gift. and I’m mad, I’m not saying I’m not. I’m mad in my longing, my undoubtful faith, and saying yes to losing everything for you, my love.  my love.. sink in the sweetness, it hurts less than the bitter taste of forgetfulness of of your one faithful servant..

  صاح قلبي هائجاً.. هل نسيتي؟ هل نسيتي حبك الأبدي؟ و عهد كرم حياتك وهباً لخدمة قدسية حرم الإيمان؟ هل تري ضوء فنون الحب؟ صمت لدني و الأنا يغني في مسرح الحياة.. هل تراني حقاً و ليس ذاك صوتي؟ و لا ذاك عملي؟ و لا ذاك عفوي و لا ظني.. خلعت الأشياء لحضرتك.. ذابت الأسباب لحضورك.. تلاشت الطرق منك و إليك.. فيك.. قبلة حبستها في خيالي و لا تبالي شعلتها.. فقد أحرقت نيران الوداع و أراض الأوقات.. بقيت بتسبيح ضوئها و انغمست في وديان أشواقي.. لا تبالي.. لا تبالي..

  I’m sorry for speaking of the secret when I do not know its magnitude, for speaking of the gift without seeing You first,    that my gaze was not in its right place. It’s oftentimes so hard to see You midst all of this: the paradox and its oneness, the dissolution and becoming, till I don’t know which is which. so broken in this love. infinitely heartbroken waiting for my beloved. to my innermost silence I return till no one finds me but You. till all the echoes of this world die down and I can hear the peaceful silence of your undying stream.  I’m sorry, even if I don’t know why. should you fare far from me, meet me in your heart, my love, even when you feel that death is near. a while of remembrance is the sweetest lifetime. a glimpse of truth shines your sky and breaks you if you’ve sailed too far from those little ripples leading you home.. oh, home..  an airplane has taken off once more and a heart is in midair, unsettled in transition. the landing was fleetingly lovely, but tha

  remembering how it was like last Ramadan, i fall helpless being reminded of what i was being taught. it felt like everything being weighing down on me all at once: a restless home touched by sadness, an insecurity in not knowing how to manage, a loss of will and knowing and possibilities fading into a shifting life. i was used to having a structure for my world. an outline of dreams flowering out of intentions. i intended to have a blissful Ramadan at home, to find ease in sadness, to manage feeling weighed down by not wanting to follow habit, to push away the clouds of loneliness being the only one awake, not knowing what to do fix things.. Ramadan is always a difficult time at home. waves of sadness come in clouds, and i always wanted to be the one resisting their winds. now that it’s almost here, this heart beckons with a reassuring whisper—  surrender . what would it be like not to even wish for having things better? what would it be like to trust that even this hardship and sadn

  every breath, and I show you infinite streams. each drop a multitude of ways I l love you. settle on one and you wilt in your mindedness. don’t mind me.. drink in the flowering light. timelessly by your side, in your remembrance. remember me and I flood you with how my love penetrates all the isness abound. ever-shifting, i’m always here. I don’t settle for you. I take you in and you’re swallowed home. follow me in a neverending gaze.

i wake at night from a dream of you. a gentle letter in your eyes and in your heart made to be received. the burning longing to hear you opens my eyes and just like that—  you’re gone. all effort made to hear you again ceases in light of the inscrutable gift, given in benevolence, beyond all schemes. i cocoon myself in unknowingness, and the lament of blaming the dreams in my heart. oftentimes it feels like letting those dreams go, too. the fallen leaf in midair. in streams of surrender. the golden ground of a heart in the right place. there’s nothing to know in this humbling sun..

  the weight of wrong doing fills my body, a heaviness in my centrefold, and i see myself more than before.   what was it that pinned me into separation again? an answer finds itself in my heart. you spoke, knowing it was you. you manoeuvred, knowing it was you. you guided, knowing it was you. you saw that it was you. but it was Me. this soul is leaning into being courteous with its time. but this time is one of invisible silence. the supreme goodness of intentions enough to be planted in the heartfelt ground of loving worldliness. the growth and halting of growth that evolves— it is not I.  light longs to be seen as light, unattached, free flowing and ever-expansive. the heart feels the wrongdoing in attaching itself to it and feels weighed down trying to manoeuvre it by design. the sacredness is inscrutably unspeakable. it longs to be received with this courtesy. surrendering words and doing, light flows into observing eyes, followed intently. it smiles into its becoming and does not