Poetry

I miss you less every day, but I still miss who I was with you.

The world doesn't ask you to break your own spirit
just to buy your way inside it.
the rain still clears the landscape, the wild birds return to the blue,
and the earth moves forward exactly as it was written.
surrender the internal war.
the storm doesn't need your permission to pass,
and your soul doesn't have to be perfect to deserve its peace.

Loving you was my wish,
having you was never my fate.

You were never mine,
yet my heart still makes the mistake
of calling you its own.

Death itself feels closer than your touch..there’s only distance, longing and yearning.

hii ❤

apricity — the warmth of the sun in winter.

Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem

‘Still No Stress’

I’m learning not to chase
what Allah has already written for me.

Not every door needs to be forced open.
Not every question needs an answer tonight.
Not every dream needs a deadline.

I can breathe.

I can take my time.

What is meant for me
is not running away from me.
What Allah has placed in my path
will find me at the moment He knows I’m ready.

So I tie my camel
and leave the rest with Him.

I make my intentions sincere.
I do what I can.
I keep moving toward what is good.
And then I let go.

No stressing over tomorrow.
No rehearsing every possible future.
No trying to control what I was never meant to control.

Allah knows the road
even when I can’t see past the next step.

Maybe the delay is mercy.
Maybe the closed door is protection.
Maybe the uncertainty is making room
for something I couldn’t have planned myself.

So I don’t need to panic.

I don’t need to have my whole life figured out.

I can wake up, pray,
do the next right thing,
laugh a little,
rest when I’m tired,
and trust that Allah is still writing my story.

If it leaves,
let it leave.

If it stays,
let it stay.

If it comes,
welcome it.

If it doesn’t,
Allah knows why.

What is mine will not pass me by.
What passes me by was never mine.

So today,
I choose peace over prediction.

Faith over fear.

Presence over pressure.

I will keep my heart soft
and my intentions clean.

And whatever tomorrow brings—

still no stress.

Allah is already there.

I am a construction of chaos.
Made of contradictions that never quite fit,
yet somehow, I remain whole.

Haiku:

My palm is burning.
Your face looks slap shaped today.
Blessed be restraint.