-in the name of Allah-

summer is slow. and hot. i think my brain functions differently under higher temps than cooler. anyways, i think some things become a part of one's self so intrinsically its imagined that the actual, true self is what you see. no, this is isn't lamenting anymore, simply reflection.

patterns and phases mark the dawn of yesterday in shadows traceless. if every rendezevous was a bridge, then how is it crossed? certain qualities crop up and again remind me in some places i remain lost. if i've learned and accepted from past lessons and directives, then from where does the volcano of habit erupt to bring forth new life, when the old is so stubbornly erected? as a side note, i notice the unrefined and vulgar of essence are repulsive, even if the message conveyed was intended to comfort and solace. and so, if demons once vanquished ever dared to raise again their faces, i'd pass the plate on to someone more desirous of a soul i deemed abrasive. still fate may play its tricks and traps, when we think doors to chance are shut- poof opens the latch and so stunned, we react. i feel former chains releasing my being away from memory's storied enclave, to a place a little safer, at least until the soul is saved. surely i won't deny phantoms a drink of water or even a dinner's meal, but when comes time of rest and repose, all shall retire to destiny's originally scheduled reel.


-in the name of Allah-

for the first time in recent memory, i find myself posting twice on the same day. *shrug* there's a first time for everything. i found out today that fate isn't escapeable, it can't be hoodwinked, it has no roundabout way- its simply to the point.

so on this listless saturday afternoon, what thoughts are there to describe? what potions to release from the mind and soul to make the ink of expression? whatever it is, it's been a long time coming

Back to the Future

its true that often do we expect, but rarely do we realize any fruit. so what use are those times when simpler, subtler pleasures sufficed to bring one at ease and fall easily asleep at night? the answer to this lies in the annals of wisdom's labyrinth, a path whose end is only found when truth and the self are in sync. the nafs had bubbled and boiled, almost overtaken the stove and killed the chef who toiled over its care; now the time arrives when recipies proven contain and define the very dish that left so many lost in confusion. my own wants are to be slaves to truth, slaves for One, slaves for whom there is no underground railroad to hell, slaves whose only recourse is in whats written when this life is done. i will love again if its my destiny, but never again can i let blind me. for in those days, i foolishly assumed that the soul without action could be enough to build for me my carriage in this traveller's life, so unaware that folly would consume my time and waste it away, robbing me of all its insight. so if experience had any fruit, it'd be an onion; though bringing tears, it helps the vision.

that sucked. next time, i wait until i actually feel like writing t_t
-in the name of Allah-

taking the advice of a friend, i have turned a new page in the book of life. may Allah allow me to learn from what i've known and make the years ahead and the life to come easy for me, and for all my fellow believers, ameen.


-in the name of Allah-

so i'm taking each day as it comes, expecting no more of it than what came the day before but what i can and do make of it right then and there. i learned of a piece of news both cheerful and sad: one i'd known was going further along the road to secure her future and solidify her present. of course, i will pray for her happiness and that of her husband's too (someone has to tell him what person he's found- might very well be the most fortunate person alive). in any case, my life shall progress bi'ithniAllah in a more positive direction. where once i was averse to the masjid, i enjoin myself without hesitation. the academia is only as hard as i make it, which means it can be pretty easy. and also, as someone once advised me, the poetry will go on, iA

seasons of conclusion

no more late night drives down the long roads of I-29, no more drops of saltiness to nurture seeds of bittersweet redress. no more toiling conversations in this modern age of one dimension, no more seeking of how misfortune might become the fate of intervention. i've wandered and i've travelled, looking for something more than just haphazard. i found little consistency in anything besides what lies in me, so it only makes sense to be whole instead of partial to parts where one is unaware of his neighbor's goal. so now as one and one accepted, i realize how former faults are to be soon perfected. thoughts and minds alike do find a prison and a palace as threads intertwined- though one seems to be the other, i'll wait to be free and know true happiness in time.


-in the name of Allah-

communique attempt numero uno yields: exit

communique attempt numero deux yields: exit

ah, but fate is written


-in the name of Allah-

for the first time in ages a heart beat likened to that of a train, moment one a glance through the messages on a phone and moment two a glance at a blogger's page.

how can i summarize in finite ryhmes a rythm that evoked both clouds and sunshine? however impossible the words will be written, for theres no other place to open the chest and unload the burden.

for a few hours early this sunday morning, i felt the unease of uncertainty slip away and surety a little closer approaching. it was a sign of fate for me to see a phantom arriving once more on stage, hardly material but through a handful of syllables, it swept the wonder away. but of course, i can understand, more than any other, how the realm we cannot see is sometimes a storm we can only weather. in those inclemencies lay our trials, even of love or hate or apathy or sanity's denial. these prior few lines preclude in stunning coincidence, how fates unknown become clear through impartial providence. some while later in the day i'd read again inevitable words, though to be expected but never fully concorded or accepted. a more recent play, more recent composition, held my hand through a dream and its dissolution. as fables go, the one who lives as 'should' would say, often comes another chapter to know.

i've let loose enough floods, its time to hold the dam; rather save the town than drown in what i am. take my words as tokens of consolation, maybe if ever you hurt again there's relief in those thoughts only waiting. if i had to be your imagination's jester theres no way i mind the idiot box- for if i could make you laugh instead of cry, it might all be better.


[side note- who knows how many of these farewell-imitations i write, but i figure each and every one is healthy lol]


-in the name of Allah-

As i ponder now what reply to write i realize there's no need, for we've both attained the truth even if the price seemed too steep. there's a link, to be sure, now etched in stones of memory; where normally weather would erode those carvings, no fate could remove what remains of you in me. there's plenty inside of me wishing to be free, to taste the skies and finally know a dream in this reality, but- such is the fate we've been given, like it or not, its blessing enough to have had our paths once woven. if there's a key to my heart i've parted from its keeper, though only for a time so each might grow however slowly from wisdom's nectar. no ryhme is just right to explain what i felt when i read those lines, but i'd rather blow against an open wind and let nature take its course, than assassinate inner phrases hewn while asleep and awake.

HasbiAllahu wa ni'mal Wakeel


-in the name of Allah-

The words you wrote were precisely the words I felt, an echo resounding of the hands we've each been dealt. You take your path and I take mine, yet I feel this pain is lovely and departure now is only a means to arrival in time. If words were words when still unspoken or unheard, then bitterly sweet would exactly be the phrase to describe why one accepts the dosage of He who fate decides. If you knew my state as it stands, you'd see a man still in quicksand but holding tightly to a few threads he learned back when his vision wasn't running from him nightly. Still, I reverberate with "ameen", for you know my story much better than I previously gleaned.

My words are folly, like this attempt at writing where the hook's in the water but the fish aren't biting. You should see all the times I forumlated compositions in my mind with unequivocal eloquence only to see them fade into forgottenness, but alas this is the road I take and the role I held in having made at least one playground safe, if only for a time- though now its a danger to dream, if you open up the book again, it may come apart from the seams. I owe you at least what you did for me, though I've faults too numerous to list; I repay honesty with its twin in imagery.

I'll write soon, once, inshAllah.