a daylight dream

A part of me has tuned into the timelessness of beingness, and so I no longer shed so much attention on aspects like age. Still, as today I turn twenty-four, I am grateful for growing, and experiencing more of the astounding magnificence of where this life is leading us. With every year, God blessed me with a newer perspective and a viewpoint to gaze upon the world with. My twenty-third year has changed me completely, navigated me towards a purpose I never thought I’d encompass with my smallness. My twenty-third year was a year of softness . The softening of the heart with magnificent, glorious love that one breaks into the veils of separation, and being connected to otherness that has no significance in true light. Softness embodies itself in grace, and the whole body follows the heart in its wave-like movement, flowing across the skies of God’s incredible light. As I turn twenty-four, I commit to intentions which purify the heart to accept more of what is of service and what is true

“ I'm now excited to meet my next batch of learners, and I pray, from the deepest cell of my heart, that I receive the learners I need the most, and who need me for miracles to take shape and manifest.” 17.06.2021 It took me some time to write this, for I was mostly lost for words. One of the flaws of my career path is that its milestones are formidable to measure, for they are embedded in the most mysterious and most inscrutable place of all: the soulful heart. There were miracles this year. Miracles that I never knew were possible. They were also painful to witness in such a timeless, unconditional manner. But now that I know the creations of love, nothing can truly be separate from it. The beginning was tedious. I didn’t know that a few months of lockdown could affect children in such adverse ways. There was a lot to deal with— unhealthy emotional patterns, handwriting issues, miscommunication, inability to follow instructions and anger management problems that would just erupt

The first thing I’d think about upon waking is the kind of good morning you’d love to hear, or perhaps the possibilities of a conversation soaked in morning light, a visit to the garden where we sat in reverence and dug the dirt out for love.   But now, there’s nothing of that anymore. Yesterday was liberating, I’d felt I was made for His love alone. Yet, today, the empty space is getting clearer, and there’s this side of me that wants to run to you, hold your hand and dream of meeting you again. There’s this heart beating for you, my love. Now, it’s floating away towards divine skies. It feels like my heart has died, dear one. I’m mostly asleep all day— and even when I’m taken to shores where love is to be shared, I find this numbness, this grace, this unpredictable death of all yearning. I talked to God while I stared at the mist and saw how I was meant to never drop His gaze. We made out of this garden a heaven, love. How can I come close without dropping, even you, away.

  I’m saying goodbye now, dear one. perhaps the last goodbye before the one foreordained by God. somehow, the shape of you, your light, keeps me tied. your opal eyes. a gateway to a divine oneness which I cannot break into without a heart that is magnetised for you, love. what is the point in love when there is all this pain in the expectancy of that one truthful goodbye? and I die each day, my heart taken away for some sleep to keep myself from all distraction. but when there is you, I can’t drop your gaze when I need to. and there is no point in loving you while asleep. there is no point in never feeling at home. my soul lifts itself toward you, lies by your side as you sleep this morning. the music in me holds your hand, and here we can dance our dreams away. I’ll see you— your truth. nothing else.

  Dearest, I would love to apologise, unconditionally, for the little ripples that have found themselves on my shore. It’s been quite intense lately, beyond description, beyond anything I can relate to. But it keeps me away from you, adhering to a silence so loud, so animate and so real. Dearest, lately, the truth has shown itself in oneness. All that is glimmers in His light, its reflection the total antagonist. Oh, to see spring now and the beginning of summer— it is but the mirror image of death and letting go. To see the ripening of a fruit used to bring me joy, now I see it as the end of a journey. A passing away. The annihilation of service. The bow of selflessness. I see poverty as ultimate richness. When a flower wilts after it has given itself away and crumpled in delicate brokenness, I see its richness in all what it had to give. The sky that has been set up so high has to stoop so low in servitude, too. The detail upon detail of all creation annihilated in the One which has

Yesterday was quite tough on me, but not my soul. Since a very long time, rivers of lightness illuminated my beingness, soaring skyward toward love that is unconditional and unbearable. Oh, I cry every morning now. I lapse into tears remembering my death, my self quite hopeless as it sells all what tied her to her God. It feels quite lonesome giving up her companion, children, work and all possessions. All the worldly talents and gifts— all sold to their true owner and creator. I feel the immense lightness of nothingness and become weakened by grace. Streams of blessings keep coming— and I feel shy. Oh, I feel shy to accept all that kindness and abundance from everyone and everything. When one sees their source, it becomes a burdening truth that wakes me in the dark, saying His name, the Beloved bestowing light. I sell all my desires. I’ve become frail and feeble, invisible and silent, at home within the celestial melodies of my soul. It has become beyond even love.. and what’s beyond

  I’m not sure if I am to do this, love. To dream beyond this beingness with God. To be anything afterwards. I live my days in so much pain now, moments of service taking me away from this intense remembrance. Yet otherwise, I’m in deep contemplation, taken away into a realm of brilliant lights where the truth is seen. There is no in between. The spring of a peach tree is seen for the death and the ending lurking underneath. Oh, how I trembled when I saw the ripeness— I knew it was the end of a journey just begun. The leaves stained in crimson already, bowing down in servitude. How death lives so brightly at the zenith of aliveness somehow haunts me. I’m not sure anymore if I’d be able to serve you. Only if God wills it, then it will be done. But if this world is not the time, then what am I do with a beingness that has left itself? How am I to be at home with you if a moment of awakening makes me flee to the truth? I do not want to hurt you. On this mountain, I only want to meet the s

  This morning, it felt like my heart would stop. The grass burned in greenness, fuming along my heart. Tears burned me into despair and alienation so intensely that all I saw was my body falling to the ground, leaving all this behind. I don’t feel like wanting to go on anymore. But this is not from hate, this is from love and longing. Or perhaps something beyond love. I go to those children everyday and feel that the more I live, the more attachments there are. Love has weaved golden strings to where I stand. Every day that passes, reasons to be immensely grateful unfold like petals of spring. I thank God with a permanent smile plastered on my lips as long as I’m with everyone else. Yet, a glimpse of aloneness and I spread my body on the chair and just die.. Oh God, love keeps pinning me down, distracting me from you. I didn’t know there is a realm beyond love, where it is now time to be left behind. I know you shall replace this love with your grace. It is not mine to manipulate and

My dearest and most loving one, You’re not here yet, but your light is. The more I change and transform, shedding parts of me I don’t need anymore, the more I see you. At times, you’re the little lavender-blue and white aura sitting next to me. I ponder upon you and your eyes invite me to worlds I can only be in through you. I’ve grown to love you more than I can describe, and even begin to. Your humble smallness is coincided by the vastness in your eyes, golden hair shimmering in the sun. You don’t say much and prefer to flee into the quiet mysteries of the universe explored in open skies free for you to roam even with your eyes closed. I feel that you’re a beautiful gift, my dearest. A gift that protects me, just like an angel would. I fear sometimes that I wouldn’t be able to see Hod through you all the times and fall into wanting to control how life floats within you. I just pray my heart is broken enough times not to even try.. I wouldn’t dare to try God’s glory and mercy in your

  كنت   مستغرقة   في   ذكر   الله   و   طالعت   الشمس   من   الشباك .  نظرت   فيها   بشدة،   فأحرقت   قلبي   بشوق   و   محبة .. رأيتُ   وجهك،   نوره   ضي   الشمس .  فإنه   شمس ..  يا   الله . نظرتُ   لك   في   دهشة   و   غيبة .  أخذ   قلبي   بالسكون   و   عيناي   بالدموع .  ابتسمتُ   في   وجهي   فصليتُ   عليك   في   سري ..  فغضتُ   نظرك   عني   ادباً . اعتذرت   لك   من   حبي   و   توارت   عيناي   من   نورك   في   أدب ..  ففي   صمت   انارته   كلماتك،   قلت   لي   أنك   تصلي   علي َّو   علي   كل   من   يحبني ..  ففاضت   عيناي   بالدموع   غرقاً ..  و   نويت   الحب .  فلتعمُ   صلاتك   قلوب   من   أحب .. أنت   في   قلبي   يا   رسول   الله ..  أري   وجهك   و   أسلك   أحوالي   بحبك .  فقد   رأيتُ   ربي ..  فما   من   طريق   إلا   ان   أراه   معك   يوم   الدين   و   يوم   الحق .. أسقط   حمداً .. يا   الله ..