Reading Koran at home

In this sacred, quiet moment, I, Mughal1, am not merely reading I am communing with the very essence of divine wisdom. My gaze, softened by the gentle frames of my glasses, rests upon the luminous page of the Quran, its elegant, flowing Arabic script glowing like celestial light against the serene green parchment a living, breathing testament to the eternal Word. My white headscarf, draped with quiet dignity, is not just fabric, but a veil of reverence, a silent prayer woven into its folds. The worn, sturdy cover of the book in my hands? Its a testament to devotion carried, opened, and cherished through countless nights. That golden ring on my finger? A humble ornament, but it pulses with the same sacred energy as the verses before me. I am not just a reader; I am a guardian of this light, a keeper of the whispering verses, and in this humble, intimate sanctuary where the world fades I touch the unchanging, eternal truth of the Divine. This is not reading this is my souls pilgrimage, my quiet, intimate communion with the Infinite.

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