Green Grass.

.بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

When you see it for the first time. Paradise, I mean. All pains, all hungers, all angers and sorrows: will cease. And all that will be left: only…

Peace, and peace.

Where is the ‘grass greener?

Way back in some distant past? How we spend our younger days wishing to be older, further along our lives, more sure of ourselves, and with autonomy.

And then: our ‘older’ days, we look back nostalgically, rose-tinted, wanting to be that small again.

Three-year-olds might play at being older: builders and doctors and drivers. And then, it might happen:

And mummies and daddies and students and shopkeepers:

Might look back, want to be wrapped up, and swaddled. Blow bubbles again, ride their bikes through the neighbourhood, before being called in, to warmth, and to safety again. And, to eat.

‘Past’, or ‘future’? Where is this ‘grass’ ‘greener‘? Back there, at those places, and with those people, or… Over there, in that ‘future’, with those people, in those places?

Maybe. You never quite know what’s been Written for you, until you go and step on that ground. But, for now:

Above us: a mysterious, and wonderful, sky. The deepest of blues, right now, and: filled with tea-light stars, soon. And, down at your feet: Two feet. Two shoes. On (figurative and/or otherwise) some grass. Have you watered this grass today? What’s it, in light of this present, these very people, and these very places, sayyin’?

A pretty bike, bearing flowers

Anyway, regardless of anything: there probably isn’t, anywhere here on this Earth, any grass as green and wonderful as the stuff that we will find upon entering our homes, if we earn the right keys, o’er there, in Jannah.

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