STILL, VERY MUCH…

nonStill, Very Much
Thank you my love,
Coming to me in my dream,
Thank you my love,
Soothing my aching wound,
Calling me beautiful
When my actions are ugly,
Calling me trustworthy
When I am the promise breaker,
Calling me a friend, a saviour, a lover
When all the world has denounced me.

Thank you, my love
For coming into my dream
And waking me from the nightmare
Of my own making.

Telling me that I am like no other,
Saying to me, that to you
I am still, very much
Special.
…………

This is a love poem. Such things come spiralling like words fluttering in the wind of your conscience, yearning for God, yearning for home, calling for those truths that once pervade your life like popsicles, bicycles and sun rays caught in a late autumn drizzle. Perhaps it is time to rewind, to unwind the coils of our own self destruction, and to find the real you and me that has always been there, waiting patiently.rain-girl

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way

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