Yours truly

I bathed in the sun without you for the first time, on our Sunday, took me 5 weeks to do. It was me and the thought of you, in my chest, not in my mind. I cried a little here and there, but mostly I allowed that newly cleansed vessel inside of me to just hold you a little. I've missed you. I conversed with God at the peek of the moment, he missed you too. We had to let you be, and respect your choice, of spirit entanglements, and the dark side. We loved you through it, we still do, our distance is our love for you at this stage. 

I cried too from the knowing, of all the pains and the distortions inside of your head, heart, and soul. I knew a little too much for somebody just wanting a light - and grounding with earthly pleasures - relationship. Every moment with you I was brought up to the 7th sky, and pulled down to the 7th hell. I loved your extremes. I hated your demons. I missed your soul, always have. But nothing beats the current peace. Damn you and the chaos you create! 

I get to write my useless words again, since this whole realm is not the reality anyway. I might as well have my own little delusional reality within it, if it comes to that. You were at its centre for a while, for several months, for 9 months to be exact. I sure have pushed you out of my womb, you silly little thing!

I miss the sight of you, I miss your voice, I miss the warmth of your touch, I miss our embrace, and I miss your vulnerability. You couldn't mask it towards the end anymore, and it drove you crazy. The pretences were dropping down, and you got too busy working on new ones, but those never worked. I have wanted to see you all, for I have appreciated and accepted all of your sides and aspects. You thought you could keep things together by sticking on more new show offs and fake gestures and empty words. It was just not going to work anymore, I naiively thought I was giving you pointers. Everything was a threat to you, a challenge, a bet. What a shame, what a waste!...

I had to forgive you eventually. I was right all along; you've never handled a full woman before, requiring from you to be a real human being. You've never beenor in a real, non transactional relationship before. I should've known better, but then again, you are indeed my teacher, through and through. 

You showed me just how inverted this reality is, and just how seriously and badly damaged the people are. You showed me, for how else could I have seen it, if I didn't go down the street! Except, you brought the streets to my home, to our home, and you fought and attached and assaulted me hard like your nemesis, or like your male friend, or like a total stranger who happened to have sworn at you after you started the attack.

Thank you for the lessons. I am sorry for my naivety. We played good and evil. You know the biggest trick the devil pulled?

Yeah, never mind... 

I don't pray for you anymore like I used to before. Instead, I just speak to God about my feelings and thoughts, and I release you from me to him everytime, with a little bit more detachment every single time. It seems to be doing the trick. I am indeed over you.

For whatever it's worth though,

Fuck you!!! 

Yours, truly. 

Around the corner

They brought us autumn in August, I was not yet ready to turn in. The sun was still at it, the grieving hasn't yet ended, there's more to expose, and a lot to be exposed for. I shan't address these clouds, move along now, heart still has work to do with Sun, and those sunny people, and their sunny hearts. Wait around the corner you eager evil spirit with your doom and gloom! 

The echoes of muted screams

I'm the butchered cow, once fell, all alone, and the butchers roaming around, each one wanting a piece of his own.

I'm the orphan who dreamed excessively about Home, it started to project it on the faces of her predators. 

I choke on the thorn of the rose they offer me, totally oblivious to the purpose of any of it all, life, its roses, and the rose offering.

I am mother and child, and the deserting of both. The alienation, the abandonment, the sacrifice, the refuge, the longing, the containment, the attachment, and the detachment.

I am the neverending, always changing, mourning grief.

I am all the mornings, and some nightimes.

I am always escaping, avoiding, spacing out, self rejecting.

I am all the men that I have loved.

I am the residue of the residue of whatever breadcrumbs was ever thrown at me.

Men, women, children, all the same.

The pain is the pain is the pain is the pain.

Another day comes, 

Another day goes.

The cycles change, 

And I remain,

Griefbound.

On and on 

It goes. 

Until there is nothing left

but the echoes of muted screams.

Hush now baby,

Nobody's home. 

There is no home,

Just you,

And this incessant itching for a life that was only ever birthed once in your own psyche.

Hush and sleep now,

Or,

Just 

You 

Wake 

Up!

Oblivion in the city of ghosts

In the devil's lair, the only hopeful thing to do is ditching hope itself.

You see him in the eyes of everyone, you sense him in the empty smiles, in the fake words, in the silence, even in the void. He did not leave anything or anyone out, and why would he, this is his home after all. 

The grieving is not over what was, or what got lost, or what could've been, it is accepting that all if this life and its intricacies, even its rarest blissful moments, is only a facade.

"The biggest trick the devil played" indeed...

When you think you managed to unclench its grab on you, you find yourself in another trap. On and on it goes. There is food, and there is drink, and there are substances, pleasures, temptations, fake hope, numbing illusions, and all sorts of distractions. 

I see his face with that smirk, I hear his giggles, and that very loud and the most evil laugh...

Fuck you anyway, you lousy pathetic lowley parasitical fraud!

Try as you might,

You do not fool me! 

Cheers to another round of battles, 

This is personal now.

Monkey business

I asked God the other day: can I please, please, please embrace them so very tight with my body and close to my chest, so I can squeeze the demons out of them! 

God replied: you'll drown again, don't you ever learn?

I plead: I wish to try again, you and yours will pull me out on time if it happens again. Please! 

God went quiet. 

Ara whispered in my head: "tayseh, banana brain!"

I laughed and cried. 

Amen.

The fire that heats burns too

The sun today was your heart 

And the warmth of your body

The sun was the fire in your grip 

And the light in your face when you smile

Today the sun was my lost companion 

For I have lost you, haven't I?

And perhaps I did before even the illusion 

of having you by my side, you firey thing!

I miss you but I miss me too 

I miss us, I even miss the cringe when we romanced

Except, it never really was that to me,

For you've fit in perfectly with my everything... 

Strangely so.

I only just wished there was a turning down to your anger 

I turned and twirled and whirled to no avail

You lit the damn fire on both us

I can't say I didn't see it coming.

Today the sun shone through but I kept the curtains closed

I didn't want there to be daytime,

Or life 

But now I bask in the faint warmth of the sunset

I plan on going to the park again soon 

Boy won't I miss you!

I pray to the trees from now to take good care of my heart when I do 

I pray for all of nature and all that is Godly to take care of your mind 

And for God to please save your soul 

I love you so, precious one!

Until we meet again, if we ever do.

Fires in the fall

I used to know things, and talk.

These days I understand things, and I keep quiet.

What use does the narc have with my incessant telling of the stories of trauma healing, when all it can do is remain on being entraped.

I'll get quiet, and share my silent understanding with it, in that realm of illusional separation it keeps on evading, always submerging in a numbed out reality of ornate fakery and fuckery.

It pretends it's polite, and does nice, but keeps snapping, and losing the maskerade of its calm demeanor.

I was never bragging about my knowledge, I was just always so excited to be sharing, helping, doing this human co-existing on a deep level, but that seems to never be welcome, not four decades ago, not last year, not today.

I sit it in abandoned abundant knowledge and I teach myself more and new ways of humbling, and I get more informed, which humbles me even more. 

Simply put, life has a way of feeling like an eternity of endless days and nights and cycles that keeps on repeating. But I do trust the messages of this timeline, they're telling me to hold still, no action is required anymore. No moving, no movements, just grounding.

I sense the launching is nearing. I'm alert, but at ease.

I was prepared, always have been, all the pain too, it did that very thing, of preparation, and other things too.

I often smile in my aloneness, I bask in endless hours of sunshine, and the most beautiful illusion of solitude, for I am indeed on my own and one with it and them all. 

But write I must, for what a horrible loss it would be not to savour and cherish the moments, and all the in between's.

You can't tame the fire, but you sure can contain it.

Here's to December fire, and the very end of the autumn fires.

Fires in the fall.

Mantis

The mantis is preying, but that is the way of this world; calling things by not what they are or what they actually do. It's a Praying Mantis, so it is, nama stay.

Hearts closing, hearts opening, it doesn't matter what the actions are, as long as the look of it appeals, and fits the description, and the label.

Careful with the aesthetics, mind the appearances, as for the heart of things, it's not allowed to be discussed, only just if and when is needed for the purpose they set out for.

Hide the true nature of things, so the narrative fits in perfectly. Until the time of the big reveal, we stick washi tape to the cracks, call them cute and pretty, and hide behind a labyrinth of ornate words.

Sometimes we're big and mighty, other times small and fragile. Just make sure you check at the beginning of every given moment, and check during the moment itself, for all the shifts and changes, subtle and tiny, or loud and clear.

A hardy, real, and manifesting nature is called masculine ~ or detached. They left out all the other traits for the feminine, and they glorified all of its many toxic aspects. Surrender they tell you, go down, dive deep, stay up, that is the way. Don't you dare tell them there are other ways, they'll outcast you, and call you lost.

And if you don't listen to their words, and if you don't see things their way, you're scapegoated, and called a fool, and the bringer of toxicity in flesh, blood, and soul. 

Fool me once, fool me twice, fool me thrice?!

They whisper in your very soul and tell you that you're desitned to pay all your life for the mistake of not being broken enough, not being saturated enough, not being distorted enough.

They pull at your strings from down below, repeatedly, differently, sporadically.

Snap!

Who got time for this madness,

Heed the call of Spirit.

Amen.

Who knows!

Autumn grace

It happened so fast, I was too preoccupied to savour it. Today though, I'm slowing down. Here is autumn indeed, for I needed my socks and cardigan to be able to sit in my usual morning spot on the terrace. 

It has rained several times already, but I missed all of them, except the very first one, on the evening of September 1st, when I sheltered the kitten. I had decided to foster it earlier that morning and spent the day accomodating it. When the rain came by the evening, I knew it was to be called Ghaith ~ غيث. I was too worked up about its wellbeing that I missed the petrichor, and the small little joys of autumn rain and autumn things, but we're only just starting, so not all is lost.

I fostered Ghaith for 12 days in total. I nursed it back to health, treated it for the ticks and fleas, cleaned it, gave it plenty of milk and food, and a lot of play time and cuddles. It kneeded on all of my body endlessly, most especially my head at night, during my sleep. It especially loved nesting inside my hair and in he nook of my neck. It kept me awake most nights through kisses and purrs. Thought I was rescuing it, it ended up rescuing me; cracked my heart open like it hasn't been for a long time. (That was pain for you, it does horrid things!)

It was my first time fostering a kitten, so young and so fragile, and a street one at that. I was very apprehensive, but we did good, both kitty and I. I needed its trust so I could do the work, it gave it to me, abundantly, and it paid off. 

I thought I could change something in me that would make me enjoy the constant company of a cat - or a kitten, but I was wrong. Some things we can change, some things we can't. I kissed it and thanked it very dearly and gave it away, for it was time for it to go, and for the next phase of healing to start, for us both. 

I was made differently, maybe naturally, and maybe through a series of traumatic events inside of me, still, there was no point trying to normalize myself, in order to start enjoying mundane things like others do - though I desperately needed it. While my nervous system was crying out for small enjoyable things, and small scale everything, simply thinking it or acting it out was just not going to do. I tried, I applied myself, I failed greatly.

While I don't exactly require the company of a cat to thrive, I do however require an abundance of heartfelt gestures from humans, the warmest embraces, the gentlest of touches, and the most genuine and endearing words ~ for mere survival, not just thriving.

That is not possible at the time being, so I will try to remain present with my body instead of failing it, like I'm so accustomed to doing. Try and listen to it as it tells me its stories, where it hurts, where it feels nice, where it needs attending to, where it's ready to serve me and my ambitious actionable plans when the time is right.

It hurts all over, but feels nice at the centre, in my heart, when Ghaith showed up, and how deeply it stared into my very soul that first night that I had it inside, in my bed, as I was crying away. It hurts all over, but feels nice at the centre, at my heart, when Yasmina showed up, and laughed and cried, with me and beside me, and at our embrace. It hurts all over, but feels nice at the centre, in my heart, as I think of the ever so subtle grace hidden in the smallest of acts, facts, faces, and situations. It hurts all over, but feels nice at the centre, in my heart, now as I listen to En Al Andalus on repeat, and stare at the clouded morning sky, and feel the chilled and humid breeze on my skin. 

I had grown so very tired of the weight of the pain I was carrying, I had to put it down, all of it. All the pains inflicted on me, by me, through me. All the pains I was carrying that wasn't mine. I forgave myself, and then forgave all others. I reached out to everyone, I said sorry and thank you. I am not sure how much of it was felt, but at this stage of new level of apocalyptic realm, even if it reaches a tiny forgetful spot in their mind, I'm happy with that. This was the small little act I was capable of. That was what I felt called to do, and make. 

Who cares about stupid employment and cash at this stage, I mean, fuck this existence as they had planned it, I refuse to abide by their rules till my last breath, and one way or another, I know that my acts, thoughts, and stands are going to be fruitful.

If it wasn't to love and grace, I would not have lasted so long on this plane reality. Though every fiber of my being gets exhausted, though I'm fatigued beyond words, though I am suffering from chronic pains, and though mind is beyond exasperated, I hold on to thin threads of hope.

I had spent days and nights recently thinking of absolutely every person I ever encountered, asked their forgiveness, thanked them, and sent them love. 

There was no point in carrying on with life the way it has been lived so far, most especially the grieving period of last year, up until August 31st. I had prayed, numerously, and my prayer was answered, God indeed has helped me close that old chapter. There are new lessons to be learned now, new growth sprouts, new adventures of a different sort. But first, we had some cleaning up to do.

It isn't a one way communication anymore, this prayer thing, it's a dialogue now, we even joke sometimes, God and I. I recall I was writing in my prayer book a while back, towards the end of it I said: Giddy up Goddy! And then laughed and laughed...

Gotta filter this existence through the centre, it could never lead you astray ~ just make sure it's decluttered.

Thank you, for it all, seen and unseen, known and unknown. 

More please,

Amen.

.

.

.

.

جادَكَ الغيْثُ إذا الغيْثُ هَمى"

يا زَمانَ الوصْلِ بالأندَلُسِ

لمْ يكُنْ وصْلُكَ إلاّ حُلُما

"في الكَرَى أو خِلسَةَ المُخْتَلِسِ

Ticks and fleas

You're frustrated at me, how oh how do I bring a street cat into my house!? 

You're disappointed because you had hoped to call in tonight, you've missed me and wanted to see me, it's been a long August indeed, but now you can't, because of the possibly flea infested house. You crack me up, you obsessive maniac!!

Don't you know, that when you're away, doing your thing, like everybody else is, with your people, and your tribes, and your rituals, and routines, that I am usually left alone to my inflamed brain, which keeps leading me astray?!

I am the childless mother, and a motherless kitten called to my heart... I'm only just human after all, take it easy!

We were a match on that September morning, with our achy hearts, shaky bodies, and that same longing and craving, for the touch, warmth, and the belonging.

Her mother abandoned it.

My child abandoned me.

It's not hard to figure, is it?

Do you see it now, how I can't relate to other humans, why I keep to myself, and why my mind is splitting?

My heart got shattered, and I've been trying to put the pieces together ever since. 

It's been a year now since the move, I shall put an end to that specific cycle soon, I promise to do my best, and perhaps, meet you then at your exceptional level of persisting excitement and positivity!

I miss that,

I missed you,

I miss you,

You excentric fool,

You intimidating fuck!

Until we meet again...

P.S: you endured summer me, now you can rejoice, for here comes September, my favourite month of the year, and you're in for a nice surprise, April boy!

The many stages of healing

How much of the ego did you kill today? 

That's how much of healing you've got done.

Kill the mothertucker! 

Crush it.

Show it who's the boss.

It is you.

Your soul is online,

Bring it on!

Heal that achy heart.

Love it, 

For all the love it is capable of,

For all the love it has shared and given,

Love it dearly,

Love it, dearie.

I love you so,

Little girl,

It is I alone this time.

My inner child,

The discombobulated,

The disheartened,

The broken,

The most fragile,

Most sensitive,

Most open,

Most vulnerable,

Most hurt, bruised, damaged,

On the way to restorative healing, Rana.

I love you so.

Don't just read it or hear it,

Feel it in your very damaged bones,

Feel it in the achy cracks of your joints,

Feel it in your utterly inflamed tissues,

Feel it in your broken down nervous system,

Feel it in your inflamed heart,

Feel it in your inflamed brain,

Feel it in all of your organs.

Let it do its job,

Step out of the way,

Just you let it.

It's done,

Amen.

Thank you,

Thank you.

The essence

The mornings have a special taste of freedom. 

They're wild, free, and very rebellious.

They don't bend, they're inflexible. 

Though the days and nights are polluted,

Morning air is always fresh.

When they attempt to break your soul, it's the hardest for them to achieve in the mornings.

Morning sun supports in putting up the fight.

Mornings are real, raw, and very sharp.

You can't mess with the mornings, they mean business.

I'm not hyped about sunsets like most people are, nor do I chase them.

Give me an eternity of sunrises and I'll be as happy as can be. 

When leaving this earth plane and when asked about the best it offered, my answer would be:

Newborn babies, thunderstorms, cold showers, my father's hands, and sunrises...

I'm sitting in my summertime sunrise spot this morning on the terrace, I captured it with a picture. It won't be long before it disappears behind the building. By then, like every autumn and spring, it shines through the opening in the wall facing my front door. I sometimes open the door to let it shine through, but often times, I like to capture its light through the door's peep hole. 

Though we want to consume that which and whom we love completely, it isn't necessary. A fraction of the whole suffices. The rising of the day, a moment in the rising, a bit of sunshine, one casual picture, few moments of contemplation, few long and deep breaths, one heartfelt prayer, one truthful wish, one good-intented action, only one real human being, one heart warming memory!...

Essence is all that's left and kept after each chapter passes. And isn't this whole existence but a mere chapter unfolding and soon to be over so we can turn the page, and write its summary!? 

The curvature

I am frequently asked, and I'm sometimes wondering myself, why is it that I am kept stuck in stagnation ~ freeze mode ~ when that heavy weight that almost broke my back and I've been carrying for nearly two decades is there no more. 

One answer can be like this one that came to me today: that curve in my back, the pains and stiffness in my bones, joints, and muscles, the closing off of my chest, heart, neck, and voice, have all been going for so long that simply straightening up won't just do. 

My body isn't recognizing that the weight isn't there anymore to carry, and my mind isn't registering the change. As to my heart, well that's too long a story for now.

Another answer is this: when the cancer that has grown so big inside the body causing so much pain for so long has been removed, the pain isn't simply taken away with it. The body still aches where the growth once was, it takes a very long time for it to adjust and to start healing, if at all it does.

When a prisoner is released from his prison, freedom doesn't necessarily register as that in the prisoner's system, and often times, the prisoner fails at adjusting to life outside of his cell.

What I have wrongly considered for so long liberation was my imprisonment, and what I thought of as entrapment was freedom itself. 

This healing the mind and attending to the heart thing keeps going, and in fairness, I don't think there is a near end to it, though the soul is longing for release.

In the meantime, I'm learning still to communicate with my body, try to tell it things, try to listen to what it's telling me too, for I had abused it quite a bit as I prioritized other beings, other things.

Another thought was this: if I consider my body a separate entity from me, then perhaps I'm able to start recognizing its own limits, and both our boundaries (it and I), and respecting them. By so doing, starting to honour it, attending to its needs, and putting it first. 

Just another thought, there is no one answer. 

Time will tell, 

and hopefully it heals!?...

(that too is perhaps just another thought)

Packaged goods

A dying bee is going in circles on the floor of the balcony. There's water here and there from the watered plants, she makes sure she avoids it.

There's a cool breeze at sunrise this morning, moon is again setting behind me, though a bit higher up today.

I cried a lot last night, there was so much physical pain, in addition to everything else. All of my back hurted badly ~ and then there were the dreams and nightmares. As though the hardened hearts of those who mattered the most was felt in my very stiff bones and joints. Ah now, that's a revelation! I remember the specific days when the chronic pains of now started in the past. Which body parts, what events, what feelings, what thoughts, what actions.

The body keeps the score indeed, and when I chose to avoid processing things, it brings me back to the moments. There is no escaping the work.

I'm just so very fatigued.

The dying bee is like a toddler playing, I must let it do its thing without interfering, while watching from a close distance. I might be of assistance, but mostly I should just let it do its thing. One is figuring out a way out. The other is figuring out a way in. 

We all run in circles, those of us in the middle of figuring out and being figured out run in circles from pain, almost hallucinatingly excruciating pains.

We follow the sun, we follow the moon, we hope for clues, we aim for cues, we almost always miss the point. We confuse the acts with states, and are often held up by status. Misleading roles and rules and contributions, deeds and dues, actions and prayers, places and spaces.

When I say we I mean they, really.

The assigned roles are only just the packaging, the gift is in the content. The content is the essence, the essence is the core, the core is the Love. There are no tricks, it's that dumbfoundingly simple. 

Still, they seem to be often fooled, tricked without there being any trickery. 

Just remove the package, you fools, enjoy the real gift! 

Or else, keep running in circles...

 

To yin and to yang

The moon is setting behind me, the sun is rising in front of me. The cycles too are entrapment. 

I made myself a hot chocolate drink, I used my special recipe, with muscovado sugar, butter, lavender, and cinnamon.

I am tired beyond words. My body, my mind, my senses. I need gentlness, I need kindness. Heart could do with tenderness and soft things. Soft gestures, soft words, soft touches.

I pushed myself hard this week, today I aim to rest. I create space for receiving, for slowing down. Today I try to take a break from the crying and all other rituals and routines. Today I embrace a chance for companionship and some brief togetherneess. 

My cup is so full, it needs only sharing. In the act of pouring over, my heart gets mended a little bit more every time. To give is to receive. Who's in need, who's deserving, who's asking. To ask for love is to be love is to be transformed by love.

I wake up before the sun and wait for it to rise. I celebrate it and it celebrates me. I take in the brief quiet moments as the city wakes up to its daily turmoil and chaos.  

I'm a woman waiting for my man, achingly. The sun is salve, it acts as my lover, briefly. It shines its light and warmth upon my body and being, and I shine back my light to the world. I birth little hopeful thoughts, and I take little thoughtful actions. 

Breaking through the entrapment with a classic dance of masculine and feminine, both outside of me, and inside of me, with the other, and in my hermitage and solitude.

The scent of my buddy is left on me, I smell it on my hair and my skin, it's mixed in with my own, a classical dance indeed. 

Here comes another day, another season, another year. Shut your heart open where it's due, then open yourself up again, wide and wild...

Let God in.

Soul-stice

I call on God, God calls back on me.

I say ya Rab... 

God says ya Rana!

Prayer is different now, so is everything else.

The dreams ought to have stopped, but they haven't.

I saw them all this week; all the men and women who've hurt me badly, at it again, in those recurrent dreams.

Same scenarios, same let downs, same trickery. Bigger pains, more tears, various ghosts of trauma manifest.

My mother back from death only to be much more active, lively, loving, and passionate, so that when she dies in the dream, it hurts 10 folds more. As though reality wasn't harsh enough, I re-live it in the dream with much more intensity. That particular dream kept me crying for hours on end since the moment I opened my eyes from it, few days ago.

I now have my crying routines, mornings at sunrise and evenings after sunsets. I'm on the terrace during those hours, doing my contemplation, listening to my music and tunes, giving myself the time and space to feel. 

When I'm not, I'm usually pushing myself to be more productive and much more creative. I work on schedule now, like the olden days. The fact that I'm still not generating money is irrelevant here, I have to love myself again, and it starts with commitment. This is here is my most essential commitment and to myself. Cash will flow, eventually, hopefully!?

I don't have control over the atrocities happening in the world on a daily basis, or the ones happening to me or under my noise, but I do have total power over my waking up every single morning and starting my day at 5:00 sharp, also the number of hours I put in on my workbench, and the number of projects I finish daily. And so that is a exactly what I now do.

I have a new cuddle buddy, he resembles my imaginary person. First time we cuddled, he did all the right moves and things. Needless to say, it's a soul connection. I only ever do those these days anyway, where there is flow, recognition, and appreciation. He's big and broad, and very warm, strong and soft, and very harmonious with my nervous system. Who got time or you energy for anything else anymore!?!

It's an intense week, summer solstice, cancer season starting, full moon in Capricorn, and other mad things all around. To say I need comfort would be an understatement. 

I painted my nails grey this morning, it used to be my favourite colour in high school when I was 18. 

I'm riding this new wave of summer madness while holding on so tight to my sanity helmet.

And I pray...

For financial security,

For safety,

To keep my dignity,

To gain more strength,

To revive all old powers,

And for grace.

A Rana (sun) song

Dreams

There's a sense of an ending in the air...

I keep seeing father in the dream lately.

Last night's dream felt like a wrap up of this madness, an ending of a sort, a feeling of packing and leaving.

A sense of homecoming,

of Home...

A Taurean tale

He takes your hand and leads you in

In through his many layers

A master of earth, 

He grounds you, 

He buries you, 

He plants you

You sprout

He breathes warmth and softness through your roots 

He whispers 

He roars

He's wild

He's tender

Double Taurus, double trouble

Tripple the charm 

Taureans earn the reigns 

They pull at your heart strings 

They press your buttons

They see through your very soul 

Taureans are spirit connections 

Be wary, not 

There is no resisting 

Those whose hearts are earthed 

And their footsteps gentle but firm 

And their chin ups, 

Head lifted, 

Tilted 

You orbit around them 

and inside of them 

and with them 

They lift you off your grounds 

And earth you in their lands 

They feed and water you, 

They nourish and nurture you 

If you've become theirs, 

Fear nothing at all.

It's okay if your words are failing you 

It's okay to be disoriented 

Embrace it still

Here we go again

Heart, mind, and womb entanglements...

And the intricacies of another souls' reunion 

Resist it not 

For it is home now 

Until it's time to move again 

Fear not the pain and the aftermath 

Que sera sera...

Let them lead

Sit back 

Enjoy the show 

Shush your mind 

Accept 

Receive 

It's your turn now 

Another cycle in the spiral...

Wheeeeeeeeeeee

Nina knows...

 

أصوات الكلمات

الإنسان نسّى

هَسّا

لِسّا 

إسّا

شَحّا

أحّا

هقْ

تْسقْ

بَقْ

دِقْ

طُقْ

أنس وجن 

ونس 

وجنون

جنى

جنان

جنات

جِنّ

دوروا دوروا 

مبسوطين؟

حول إمّن

أمّيّ

أّمي

 

شو حلوين

هلا وغلا 

اشتقنا

ما اشتقتوا؟

هالصيصان...

Hindsight

There couldn't have possibly been a greater pain than the one I've been through from being alienated by you. As the ice melts on my frozen and hardened pain, it is being revealed to me that I have indeed done it all to myself, by myself, for how else could I have given you the gift of free will, which is what you truly wanted, and what I wanted for you. 

The pain did what it always does: creates insomnia. That's trauma for you, and it happened in real time. But now I've awakened, and I know that not all mothers' love is great, but mine to you was. 

I'm humbled and grateful beyond words for God and the strength I was given to carry through this most noble act my soul has sat out to do. I have indeed released you. I loved you that much. You do and did with your free will whatever on earth you like. The rest is for us to deal with. I have dealt and am dealing with my part. 

I see the broken women around, whose kids are latching unto their very soul. You fantasied about that stereotype, the broken depleted women, but I have to break the news for you; this kind of mothers couldn't possibly fathom the concept of freedom for themselves, let alone their kids. Nor be as hardy as going childless mothers, it's detrimental for their existence! You have been blessed. It wasn't random though, you have indeed made the choice, I was the one for the mission. Your soul might come online and remind you one day. 

Done and dusted, matey! 

We are soulmates, that's a fact. 

(I hope you're searching for and finding your soul family.)

When you're in your fourty's you will understand, and perhaps you might even remember by yourself at some stage before. 

None of it matters, it's all good. 

For now though, here's another prayer, and a new goodbye...

في أمان الله والقلب داعيلك