How can one, manipulate time and space like this?
Have it draping my fingers like silk,
Laced in details of all things that I envision,
I choose the design of my tapestry,
It’s thread, it’s depth, the embroidery that makes it,
The gold on its hinges,
I choose the needle that pierces the fabric,
I make my own cloth now,
Yet,
It is not me,
It is all God, it is the Other,
The Universe and the Ether,
My beloved and his Entirety,
It’s my seeking of self in which I have found him,
It is through Him, I have found myself,
Mirrors,
Yet I am made in his Image,
A Reflection,
But no,
Astugfirullah,
I am a Sinner,
Yet I am not,
He is Al-Wadood,
He is Al-Ghaffar,
I am Human.
If this is a Miracle,
Then who am I to deny?