The pearl’s journey

A fragmented insight

Deep down, in the dark depth of my soul, do I often hear the sounds of monstrous inarticulate wailings. The wailings of a part of myself locked away in the dark vault of my person.
Locked away for so long It knows no light but those from the reflections of fleeting smiles, passing gazes, and Overall—trust in the Most High.

It yearns not for freedom but for the memory of a time to come, fragmented glimpses from behind veils, ever foggy ever uncertain.
Fogginess remains the reality of such memory, only becoming clearer as the future grows nearer.

Analogous to it is a pearl trapped in the darkness of its own shell, and its shell trapped in the darkness of the ocean.

A rarity, genuine in its passion
intrinsic in its value, yet dwells in the deep.
A feeling, A pearl
Sort after by many, but acquired by few.
A pearl, elated only at the soft wrists and necks of Swans
A feeling, whole and content only in its replica, fulfilled when no longer confined, in bliss when uncertainty becomes certainty.

And so the wailings reduce to a silent whimper, not in despair, but in a quiet acceptance, like the shell waiting for the waves of time that will one day free its treasure, the pearl, the veil blurring the memory will be lifted, leaving the feeling to bask in the warm light of its long awaited recipient.

A quiet acceptance and acknowledgement that the future, so anticipated and worried about for the uncertainty it brings, is certain in the eyes of the Most High—already written with the ever certain ink of His, in the Preserved Tablet (Lawh al-Maḥfūẓ).

Alas, the heart remains heavy and the soul remains longing—weaving threads of hope.