the collapse of language within the sealing of time, reveals a promised delicacy of prayer. all humbled spirits rests upon a stillness; a soaked solitude covered in an assuring quietness, washed over tenderly with cries for forgiveness. my Light. grant me the sincerity of such blessed closeness. to come undone a wretched servitude of an image. accept me in welcome. in peace. pleading. always yearning. never to be abandoned to the howling hunger of the vicious nights. my Home. i fear the deepening of shadows, the inability to keep alive a child’s joy you entrusted my heart with; the joy i deny myself, bitterly, with the burying of sorrows. do not neglect me to a distressed discipline of a frantic self. preserve me. my Lord. preserve me, as i lay in tranquility, soothed to the sound of a certain truth.
فَإِنَّ مَعَ الْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا
إِنَّ مَعَ الْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا
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