Maktub,
so said my ancestors,
“qadar la mafarra minhu” – fate from which one cannot escape,
but we always think of it
when something does not materialize.
Yet what is maktub also embraces
the incredible, the pleasant, the fascinating,
like the tenderness of that smiling girl
sharing a dinner born of coincidence.
Even that unplanned tug of the hand
sprouted from the same path of woven destiny.
Perhaps it’s just a fleeting moment, a spark,
but what is maktub is savored,
lived with the soul, and treasured in the heart.