She had a hold on me. With both her hands around my heart, i knew i was as fragile as a feather caught in the wind. Scared at times, fear would slow me down, or blind me to the truth, as id try to out run her grip. Happiness came in clusters of words, emotions, places unknown, and familiar faces. But like a shadow she would always be there. Waiting and watching. The numbers on her face, turned with my thoughts; days and nights along side, she was never alone. Sometimes her presence was perfection. Sometimes her arrival brought news i would detest. From a very young age, i saw the effect she had on life. As i grew older, our relationship too wrinkled into place. She could be unkind yet often loving; healing my wounds with her hands as they rotated around my small beating heart. I was her prisoner, a visitor, an intruder and a soul mate. She could throw me into a storm, or let me free fall into peace. Yet she never hid the truth from me. With her wisdom, i always learnt from my losses and my numbered victories. Time, she called the shots. Her presence was and always will be a binding contract of the universe. Long before time was given a role, a purpose, she was perhaps admiring the stars aimlessly, much like us. But Allah gave her a purpose, like clockwork, she always arrived with precision. A true follower, time never faltered nor refused the will of Allah. Her hands are made as a reminder as they tick around the clocks of our beating hearts. Make the most of her in your life.
Posted on: Sat, 30 Aug 2014 13:27:41 +0000
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