There is nothing foreign about the moment when clarity finally arrives. We know it in our bones — the way a landscape becomes visible once the rain stops, the way a song once put it: I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The Qur’an names the same experience by omitting a word. When God removes “Say” from the verse of nearness, it is the spiritual equivalent of the clouds parting. The nearness was always there; only our perception was obscured. And perhaps this is the quiet purpose of Ramadan: to clear the static, lift the fog, and bring us to that sudden, unmistakable Aha — the realization that God was never far, and the silence we feared was actually the doorway to presence.