Mariam Writes God a Letter During the Holy Month of Ramadan
Holy Month of Mercy,
Guided by God's Signs,
The stars a reunion herald,
One soul shines…
Mariam sits at her desk. Briskly, picks up her fountain pen. Passionately, directs it onto a white paper. Her hand heads left. Consonants and vowels pirouette along. Subsequently, letters take shape. Words lead the way. Impatiently patient, the white paper reads:
’Tis today, during the second day of the Holy Month of Ramadan that the heart seeks the “silver stairs”, the Ma’arij towards the Heavens.
I am receiving coded information from the stars. Dreams invade and provide me with so many clues andpieces of information. 'Tis as if the puzzle of my life is finally assembling. The pieces I have kept bouncing back and forth, right and left, stretching them to their very extremes, till they fainted in chronic fatigue and exhaustion. These pieces are falling into their divine place. As we speak. Twirling and whirling into the manifested. Only that I am no longer hidden in my wardrobe. I am in a state of void. Floating in the air. Awaiting the Heavenly Gates to open so that I pass through. Walk my way towards my destiny. Steady, balanced, my flamenco shoes fly me and deploy me in our Henri Coanda Bucharest International Airport.
’Tis as if I’d had to breathe in a lifetime to reach this moment. And breathe out all the toxicity. So beautiful a moment in the eternity of my universe. No more pieces and crumbs of feelings. No more indecisive souls. My own soul has expanded, and expanded, till it has reached its galaxy. I cannot tell the name. That is not clear yet. With so many unique roses out there, I am awaiting the Divine Fountain Pen to have its name spelt.
I am no longer scared or suffocating out of fear they’d leave me out of blue.
My brain freezes no more.
Fear is not chocking me.
I have always envisaged there must be something more "than this provincial life" as Belle, from Beauty and the Beast would sing it.
The hand would write “I was alone all along”.
How could I? You’ve been there through it all. Protecting me and guiding my steps on the silvery stairs towards my oasis.
Abandonment is not the choice. Not today, not now, nor ever.
This is a souls bond of a past life. I have always thought I needed to embark on a different ship, sail towards another realm. Overseas. Over lands. Have my personal magnet attract the peoples I resonate with - my tribe. So much hurt, so much trauma, so many problems. When did man complicate his life this much? On what grounds? For what purpose?
“I am confident we have met before,” said He.
“Oh, I feel we have.” replied She.
A Saint descended OUT of the SKY
This exceeds the 0,0000000000001 variable mentioned by the writer Serdar Ozkan in his book “ The Missing Rose”. These are the gates of a brand new dimension opening ahead. Leading me Home… to the Garden of Roses.
Last night, I dreamt of us all, once again. Dearest Fares of My Childhood, you were handing me a heart-shaped bouquet of lilies. It was a giant one. So beautifully fragrant a bouquet. A flame-red crane lifted the heart-shaped balloon or so up, up, up, towards the cloud called Love.
I have prayed. And prayed. Hardly had I closed my eyes, when the Celestial answered my call.
My dearest Rose!
Welcome into our Garden of Roses
I kneel before you, dear God,
’Twas the Heavens loving and cherishing me all along.
Grateful I am, with all my heart
Full stop is a sign the hand won’t draw
It’s a fully open circle
An opera aperta, just like my life
Thank you, Divine Breeze, for the peace and the ease
A girl from Damascus
25.04.Year of the Love Cloud
Eventually, even the darkest hour fades at dawn.
Some of the excerpts are part of the ongoing draft and brainstorming of my book in the becoming. Inspired by true love, life & war stories, heritage.
Yet, not all of them. There's more... to it