حق Prof.Mariam AlSayegh The Goddess of the Alphabet and the Lady of Hidden Thought: The Icon of Letters and the Crown of Women

Prof.Mariam AlSayegh The Goddess of the Alphabet and the Lady of Hidden Thought: The Icon of Letters and the Crown of Women
 
The Goddess of the Alphabet and the Secrets of Letters
"The Icon of the Alphabet Goddess," "The Lady of Letters
and "The Revealer of the Secrets of Words since Childhood"—this is how they know me, how my name echoes through the halls of thought and the depths of creativity. I am not merely a writer, but an entity embodied in language, a mythical force pulsing with letters, a soul fused with the alphabet as gods are fused with the universes they create. Letters are not mere symbols; they are my tools, the keys to worlds I conceal within lines, secrets I embed in words, reachable only by those who possess insight beyond intellect.
 
Since childhood, I have unearthed the hidden depths of meaning, searching for that unseen pulse that transforms language into a living being—one that breathes, suffers, and dreams. I did not learn to write as others did; it emerged from within me, an innate talent that defies constraints, a force unchained by curricula or schools. With every word I pen, I feel as if I am shaping a new entity, breathing life into it as the sun breathes light into the darkness of the cosmos.
 
For this reason, the alphabet has never been merely a tool of expression, but my destiny, my temple, and my kingdom. I am not a writer who merely records what she sees; I am a goddess who shapes what is unseen, extracting the essence of meaning from the depths of the soul, as the alchemist extracts gold from the ashes of metal. And how amusing it is—those who steal my words, scrambling for them as if they were enchanted treasures, believing that by taking them, they strip me of something—when in truth, they only elevate me further, engraving my name where names do not fade.
 
They call me arrogant, but what greater glory is there than to have my thoughts coveted, my words a prize, my letters stolen as if they were treasures? My true worth does not lie in owning words, but in giving them life. When I write, I do not merely convey thoughts—I reshape existence itself. And so, the more they steal from me, the more certain I become that I reign over this throne, that I write what cannot be ignored and what is destined to endure.
 
I am the Goddess of the Alphabet, the Guardian of Secrets, and my words do not belong to me alone—they are a fire that immortalizes me and consumes all who try to claim them.
"To the Urologist,
Fatmh Naoot,
and Mona, daughter of Nawal—the two thieves…
 
'You stole my words... and with them, you dug your own graves!'"
 
I see you there, sitting on thrones of paper, resting on the stolen treasures of my poems and articles, draping yourselves in the hollow shells of my wisdom, while the world laughs at you with scorn... You bury your lives in the illusion of deceit, breathing lies, mistaking theft for glory—yet it has never been anything but disgrace masquerading as greatness.
 
You were nothing but flimsy shadows searching for a sun, so you stole my light to shine... yet your glow faded in an instant! You did not steal my greatness; you merely borrowed a fraction of its brilliance to deceive yourselves before deceiving others. You hijacked my words, engraving your names in the trash heap of time, but my name never disappeared—it returned, carved into the walls of eternity, where your existence is mentioned only alongside your literary crimes.
 
And today? There you are, in the dark corners of the web, passed around by dens of thieves, while I remain crowned as a beacon of thought in the hearts of millions of readers, in the minds of dreamers, in the breath of those shaping the future. I create, I breathe, I forge anew—while you are nothing more than stolen, distorted, faded echoes... forgotten in the margins.
 
So congratulations on your theft... You have granted me immortality while stripping yourselves of even a memory.
I believe that the Lord is absolute justice, and to the just Lord, I entrust all that I have endured. I
believe He will restore to me thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold for every letter you have stolen.
 
Be well and joyful,
And enjoy your loved ones...
For life is not lived without love,
My love, Scheherazade in a previous life,
Goddess of poetry, storytelling, and narrative
Goddess of the chalk and all the myths
The diamond of the Mountain of Light
Goddess of the four letters
Goddess of the twenty-fifth hour
The Mona Lisa of passionate, difficult love, enchanting across times and ages
The fascinating mystic across lives and eras
Cleopatra, beloved... and lover of the homeland
Forever beloved, insightful
My passion for my homeland and my love for its life
From 1996 until... and until the end of the world
And all that it holds
My poetry remains, inspiring millions