- in the name of Allah -

Haven't written in awhile, but this is recently inspired.

"let's Fly"

dedications to memories buried in imaginary cemeteries, the world is my grave until you beat through these arteries. i came back to pieces of pyramids almost forgotten, a past of almost perfection, where things stood right even though the rest of the world seemed to be crumbling. even though it's meaningless i'll say it anyways: i should've been there, should've manned up, should've found myself sooner, but the diamond i had in my hands slipped out of my grasp and before even a second had passed there it was- falling into an ocean where i could never follow, a path only destined to haunt and leave hollow. unless i can fill it up with memories and not do injustice to the future coming to me, it just might be circles that i travel in again, circles without an end or beginning but always promising to leave one spinning. i don't know why i haven't felt like reaching for the moon in so long, but lately i've wanted to fly with thoughts of you on my mind: the wind in my face, blowing through my soul, a filter for the folly that left the keys to my past without their hole. swooping wings and thunderous hearts, the rush begins when the seas part, giving hope its middle lane between the loony and sane. i can only think of Jannah, the only plausible possibility, where you finally morph from a dream into an effervescent reality. still, i'm reminded so succinctly how ironic it is i should depend on this need for hope, after i'd once casted off faith in its purpose and replaced it with the need to cope. i'm approaching a loss for words; the door is closing, but with whispers yet unspoken, whispers yet unheard..


- in the name of Allah -

Random memories tend to surface sometimes, and it may be better to let them out than keep them caged inside. One particular one came to mind just now, one day back in the Fall of '05, when the days seemed brighter and the nights more vivid. There was a voicemail message left on my cell, a voicemail of someone in a singing voice reciting the alphabet song, "A, B, C, D, E, F, G.."; of course ending with 'won't you sing with me?' Ahh, what things we remember. Time moves so fast, people come and go almost without notice, and even when they are noticed, they never seem to stay as long as we'd like. The big question remains, where the end of it all is. Just not in that sense. I know what the end will be, but what will be my end? It's a question I cannot answer, but only hope I will do/have done enough good to earn Allah's rehmah.

I shall note some down some recent observations I have made, and some quotes I can recall. I believe it was Imam Ghazali who said that one desire only leads to another desire. This I can vouch for as truth. By example, after satiating one's appetite, besides the will of the individual, what can stop him from eating more, not because he is hungry, but simply because he can and the action brings him joy? It is this line of reasoning that brings us back to the one and only place the human being can find peace in, consistently, and that is with Allah, in Islam. It should be simple then, if I have the answer to the question of 'where to find peace', that I would have it whenever it would be needed. But it is not so. The soul is a fickle character in a play made of vanity. People seek fulfillment from the approval of others, and such a thing based on the whims of mortals is destined to be lacking and void. But yet, I am part of these very same people, these people who cannot, even as much as they try, live as isolated islands in the oceans of humanity. There is something I seek, something I have not yet found, that eludes me so well and so intrinsically, it offsets the balance with every other aspect of life I have come to know. It may be that I seek some one, or my self, but whatever the truth, only time can reveal just what it is. Thus, these times are encapsulated in forgetfulness, as simply fillers between a time that once was, where innocence and idealism held sway, and a time yet to come, where truth and justice reveal the reckoning humanity loved to delude itself about. But, the question insists, can this be only that, just filler? What transcendent beauty is there still undiscovered that would give it this time more meaning, more substance? Where are objective and purpose found together, fused within a practical reality that does not need to call upon a new age, as it already has the best of yesterday and today?

Some people are relegated to living questions while others find answers. I pray Allah makes so that I meet one of these before my time is up.


- in the name of Allah -

In all of the events in life one gives meaning to, another was added to the list. Amongst the irony of ironies, it had to do with April 19th of a year ago, an irony I'll refrain from expounding upon but mention nonetheless. I went back to Al Rahmah for Jumu'ah. This, after an absence going on 10 months. I found that many of those I knew no longer attended as frequently, though the few that remain, seem to matter more. In the cosmically small but personally gargantuan steps we take in life, this has to be counted among them.

I was reminded, going over a piece of the past, just how important understanding is. Being prone to misunderstand because of a tendency to think too fast and judge too easily, I'd lost touch with quite a few I care(d) about. Interestingly, it was the memory precisely of such a person that finally took the nail out of the coffin and allowed everything to be re-examined in a different light. Alhamdulillah for that. In other less important news, Heroes finally returns this coming Monday, and my semester has only a month left. Woot!


- 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.


- in the name of Allah -

Opening the door while closing the window, spectators remain safe while wanderers suffer incognito. where unknown is the end to this beginning, this slow surfacing of a dawn dampened at first sight by doubter's inhibition. transcendence the cure to an ache underneath, physicality the blur between what's real and what eyes only see. paths can become prophecies, rudimentary hopes locked within cynical ambitions without possibility of release. first conclusions rarely fly, made of preformed wax designed to reach but so high. acceptance of happenings and happenstance, life of this earth a tango but not all find they can dance. purpose oblivious while internal turmoil reigns king of a stage deemed insufficiently lit and thus useless. vagaries of depth conceal true meaning in breadth, scope a function of fingers and letters wired impulses from the mood setter. yet living peace is found, no longer a demon disguised in the underground. to seek serenity, the soul is the patient and the mind a medic, trying to release from within what's already been invested. easy questions don't exist and many hard ones have no reply, only aides to truth can recover it from lies.