- in the name of Allah -


So I am back here again. Why? I'm not entirely sure. It isn't the innate pull of self revelation, nor the desire to lift some hefty burden off of my chest. It isn't even as strong as the typical motivations I have to write something.

I write because I marvel at the hand of fate and its subtle movement. How some paths we plot and plan ourselves, yet they fade to nothing, and some paths of which we carry no inkling, without warning emerge to the surface of our souls from the very depths of our being. I hold no illusions of grandeur, no delusion of sanctity, no farce of fair fate; the only feeling I carry is this awareness that a thing, though it may be of limited purpose and present scope, could impart every single notion I've ever valued outside of deen and the basic premise of my existence, all in one fell swoop.

It could be that a reflection of mine, similar in nature but varying in substance, is finally shone from a corner of the world and a part of life that I hadn't quite expected from. How do I react? What will I do? Will I bury the shovels of my past along side the graves of fallen dreams? Will I create a facade to manage a crisis I don't see but in paranoia might expect anyway?

Simple. I live as if little has changed, but for a glimmer of something greater is given its due. There it is, there it might live, and still there it may die, but I will remember the day it shone bright, without needing to wonder if or why. My past has stayed buried, and as little as I care for it, it plans on staying that way. Facades never were quite my thing, so I'll leave them be and carry on while keeping faith grounded in believing.


from the nearest star..

..fell a dream, into my lap
barely moving, it needed CPR, stat
paddle 1 paddle 2, shock on three
count the lights, hands off, electricity
coursed through veins, depolarizing
a dream in infancy, barely surviving,
it just might make it, begin intubation
blindly, no need for light, I see it clearly.

a patient who fell out of his shuttle,
right before it landed on the moon,
escaped the smoldering rubble,
and not a second too soon,
flames and smoke rose and engulfed,
a lost vantage point blazing the rough,
no real matter, blueprints were in hand,
now to rebuild, across the oceans, across the lands.