Till Death Do Us Part | ON-HOLD

➶ A C T : HUMSAFAR ➴

[ humsafar ]

(n.) "hum" as in "you & I"

"safar" as in "journey"

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originates from Persian roots, but found its way into the Urdu vocabulary;

combined together, it possesses a more intimate nature (as with anything that is joined with the prefix "hum") no definitive English equivalent; but the idea is that it means someone who walks alongside you on the journey of life, your life partner, your soulmate, your companion for eternity.

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» My mother once told me of her favourite piece by Emily Brontë. It goes like this; “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
And it now reminds me of us.
If you think about it, you'll see that there's something undeniably spiritual about us—like all our atoms that have come together to form our elements were carved from the same sources when we were being created.
It's the earth in our bones and muscles, the water in our blood, the air in our breaths, the fire in our body's heat ducts, and the particles of space in every tiny gap between our organs.
And that's where the universe comes in, I think.
Because the same elements exist in every individual's body—earth, water, air, fire, space—but you and I, we were woven from the same ocean, the same sand, the same flame, the same breeze, and the same cosmic dust.
We weren't just made for each other, we were made from each other.
There is an echo in this world, if you listen carefully enough. A faint beat, a dull throb, a small pulse—that resonates of you and I.
It vibrates in the space between the Earth and the sky. Echoes beyond the solar system, even beyond the galaxy that we know. It reverberates through every single atom, particle, molecule that exists. It's the Universe's very own heartbeat—thudthudthud—each pulse whispers of us.
This is why I'll always know you.
If the multiverse is real, and there are so many other realities playing out right now, we are together in every one of them.
Even if we don't wear the same skin, the same faces, the same voices—even if we have entirely different identities, we have found, or are finding, or will find our way to each other somehow. There is a version of us just being born, another version that's just meeting eyes for the first time, a version that's realising they're in love, a version that's saying their wedding vows, and a version that's holding their first child.
And if the universe ever breaks open, and we find all the worlds colliding, and you come to me with a face and voice I don't know, I swear I will still recognise you. Across time and space and distance, across any alternate reality, my soul will feel yours. We are timeless, my love. Empires can rise and fall, countries will be conquered and freed, centuries will begin and end—but we will always, always remain. Even if no scripture or history book writes us into their pages. Even if our tale isn't preserved in museums.
It's in the way we were familiars even whilst we were strangers. In the way our interactions were less about introducing or learning one another, but more about us remembering each other—as if our hearts, our souls have met once long ago. As if beyond the threshold of our memories, there is an existence in which you and I have lived, have loved, have endured.
It was only inevitable, you see, the crossing of that threshold from vague familiarity into something more, something infinite. We are the lucky few who were written in the stars, meant to find their way back to each other no matter the worldly barriers. How can this world come between something that was engraved into existence by a higher power, by a divine force?
Before our souls were breathed into our bodies, I think they existed in some other realm.
Because atoms are immortal, you see. They go on practically forever. The atoms that make up the elements in both our bodies have existed long, long before us—(we are a tale as old as time)—and they will exist long, long after us.
When our bodies eventually perish, our atoms will disassemble and move off to find another purpose; as part of a branch, a drop of dew, or a grain of sand.
This Universe planned for us—planned for an immortal love inside mortal bodies—that even after death, it'll keep the fragments we leave behind.
We are eternal.
And this is what I really mean when I tell you I love you. «

—Ali Merci © 2020