The Lord of the Palace will not grant me an audience
The confidant of the soul will not whisper me His secrets.
His charm, His goodness, His glory, His fiery eyes,
And the tender subtlety of His tyranny have all enslaved me.
He mocked me: "Where is your love, your radiance, your glory?"
How can any of my glory remain when I see nothing but Him?
- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi
This is rather how I feel, with god (or my former self) mocking me, saying, yeah, where is your love and your radiance now? Well fuck you. How can any of my glory remain? Apparently, it does, and it will. Doesn't right now. This is going to take a long time of moving very slowly.