and in the People,
in their detailed Movements,
of how Intricate their lives all are,
painted in Calligraphy,
Slim lines as if spider webs,
simultaneously spun around one another,
With Silk,
Spiritually bound,
in our friendships,
and in their Kindness,
in the Sweetness of their Tongues,
like pakistani mangoes in the summer,
understanding drenched in their core,
A source of inspiration,
You can see in which Quarters they work,
The Gardens that are tended to,
Blooming in Flora of all Senses,
in all Seasons,
wealthy in moments,
deeply lived,
Whole.
I remain in awe,
entirely,
in wonder,
of how they have come to be,
like Baklavas,
their hearts entrusted in Goodness,
of sincerity,
of care,
In Love,
They inspire me,
to be like Them,
A challenge,
I wonder,
Ponder why God sent me Angels,
How he constructed these beings,
All universally put like Jenga,
Scripted into my timeline,
In awe,
I realise why God sent Prophets to the People.
My Muses.