A blessing that eats you within.
Emptying all the past sins.

A blessing that keeps you pinned.
Filling happiness to how it seemed,
To the rhythm of time that’s tint.

Don’t rush, love.
Don’t rush love.

Love, take your time.
Love takes your time.

For your love, written before time.
For you’re love, written before time.

A poem reads the reader, wrote by the poet.

But a poet writes for the reader that ignited her art.

And ignites her heart.

Maybe on a good enough weather,

I'll bloom good enough.

Maybe it was just the good weather that had enough of me,

or we were almost good enough.

My words are running dry,
My heart is turning cold,
But I need to keep trying,

Even if I'm left a whisper
Just like a fading flower

Told, to try.

Tell her He is with the oppress
Tell her He is with the distress

Tell her He is with the traveller, the grief and the broken heart

Tell her of her Master – The Al-Baqi, The Everlasting even if time is count in lightning years apart

For He is to his servant, as she remembers Him, but tons closer than in her heart.

To The Creator you are one, to the creation you are none.