[mournfulroses]

Louise Glück, from a poem titled "Landscape," featured in Averno: Poems, originally published in 2006

[mournfulroses]

Juliette Drouet, from a letter to Victor Hugo, featured in My Beloved Toto: Letters

[rsvnr]

“And whosoever is conscious of Allah, He will make a way for him to get out (from every difficulty). And He will provide him from (sources) he never could imagine. And whoever puts his trust in Allah, then He will suffice him. Verily, Allah will accomplish His purpose. Indeed Allah has sent a measure for all things.”

— Surah At-Talaq, Qur’an 65:2-3

[weltenwellen]

Cameron Awkward-Rich,  from "The Child Formerly Known As _________"

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Sue zhao/Ryan O'Connell

[stillgotscars]

there it goes - maisie peters

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2024

[expressions-of-nature]

by Dmitriy Aseev

[aszmxm]

Inside every person is a story they wish to forget

[finita--la--commedia]

– Faraj Bou al-Isha (b. 1956), “Wait” translated from the Arabic by Khaled Mattawa in: “Poems for the Millennium. Book of North African Literature”, edited by Pierre Joris and Habib Tengour

[leahberman]

as the wind blows; antelope valley, california

instagram - twitter - website

[stay-close]

“Because when something happens, she’s the person I want to tell. The most basic indicator of love.”

— Every Day, David Levithan

[reddishhbeard-deactivated201703]

When you truly love someone, that love permeates throughout your blood and your body. Seeing something that reminds you of them, the mere mention of their name, a faint memory. It physically does something to you. So much so that the people around you may notice your eyes dropping, your head turning away, or any sort of body language that’s indicative of that love running through your veins. Your physical gesturing is a giveaway of that love manifesting itself in your being, and at times you can’t control it. Especially if they’ve passed or they’re not around.

It was was said that when our Prophet, sallalahu alayhi wa salam, passed away, Bilal was not even able to say his name during the adthan without stuttering and crying. It was said about Imam Malik, that the colour of his skin used to change at the mention his name. I want to love my Prophet like that. I want to cry when he is mentioned, and miss him the way I’m supposed to miss him. I want to love him more than I’ve loved anyone else. I say that I do, but I want to internalize that love and I want it to affect me physically. Because love isn’t real unless it’s infused in your blood and your heart. Because there is no success without loving him more than you love yourself.

[soracities]

e.e. cummings, from “in time of daffodils(who know” (in 95 Poems), Complete Poems: 1904-1962

[Text ID: “In time of daffodils(who know the goal of living is to grow)”]

[umtxqwa]

For verily, the love of Allāhﷻ, is the ultimate goal.

[muneersecstasy]

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.

~ Jelaluddin Rumi رَحْمَۃُ اللہ عَلَیہ

[stay-close]

“And when I asked you how you’d been, I meant I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything before.”

— Iain Thomas