-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.