© 2026 Dahlia Ibrahim
There is a looseness in the heart tonight,
a soft unfastening
as if an unseen hand has opened
a door I did not know was there,
leading toward a place unnamed
yet deeply familiar.
Thoughts rise like half formed prayers,
crowding the chest,
rushing upward in a tangle
too heavy to hold,
too formless to release.
It is a kind of anticipation
the trembling before revelation,
the hush before a truth
that arrives without permission.
Perhaps solitude has sharpened my sight
beyond what the world can bear.
Perhaps I have glimpsed
the hidden scaffolding of things
the secret architecture
beneath ordinary days.
And now the heart swells
with knowledge it never asked for,
with visions that press inward
like spirits seeking form
yet vanish the moment
the tongue reaches for them.
There are others who walk this path:
those who taste meanings
before they can name them,
who feel the pulse of the unseen
beating behind every moment.
We are the ones who suffer
this sacred indigestion of the soul
not confusion,
but overflow.
Not darkness,
but too much light
arriving all at once.
We carry truths
too vast for speech,
too luminous for language,
too ancient for the narrow corridors
of the human mouth.
And so we remain silent,
not because we do not know,
but because we know too deeply
because the heart has touched
the edge of the Infinite,
and no earthly word
can hold what it has seen.
© 2026 Dahlia Ibrahim
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