- in the name of Allah -


So many real problems, so few real solutions, images ideal crash down from a plane of fiery dilution. When I was younger I aimed for the stars, but then I fell in the ocean, with the pitfalls of fate, became grappled to indecision by the mix of emotions. Each day it seems, optimism and pessimistic fatalism battle the ground inside, neuron against neuron, the soul an only victim that within resides. Reaching for the past, I'm held back by the present, distance, it seemed to me, was a blessed haven in disguise from the wretches of souls unrepentant. Alas, mistakes made over and over, assumptions withered to dust, the sun shines and all the theories float with fairies to a place that leaves me weary. Do I search the graves for answers, or journey forth for new land, to build a palace in sand? It isn't the people I disliked, it was the possibility that as far as that fateful idealist's collapse in '05 had left me bare, there was still the skin still yet able to be taken, from all the things to be lost, the last barrier before the abyss became a mirror falling I never cared to watch shatter and thus send all my trust in life amiss. I've prevented those that cared from reaching back, when that for which I cared I could myself no longer reach, a bridge crumbled in fate's iron grip, the outcome of which still either lingering to be rise or slip. Time became irrelevant, as the soul's anguish transcended to a plane of unequaled ambivalence. Still, through it all, I yearn for a place to put my head, a place of rest, a place not of nightmares but dreams instead.