You were a January baby. I should have known then. I should have known you would clash with my May sensibilities.
You, ruled by Saturn, would one day eclipse my entity.
You, no doubt, would diminish all warmth held for you.
Why couldn’t I see? Because I’d prayed so fervently for you by the night lamp each evening, like the moth I’d destroyed sight of myself.
Before you came, I prayed for you. Before I knew what prayers were, I prayed.
You: my first ever prayer.
Now we only meet in my dreams and your face turns up like a ghost’s during my waking moments.
And I wish, how I wish, that I could’ve been your first prayer too.
I wish you could’ve understood.
But some revelations are only for the Final Hour.
Let us meet there then, with no regrets.
Let us find ease then in knowing: this was the Qadr of Allah.