- in the name of Allah -

Just a few more days until 2008 comes to a close. What a year it's been, like others before it, telling of great self-revelations, where I learn who I truly am, with a touch more of sarcastic irony coating the magic pill of inevitability. To this day, though I know parts of my potential, parts of my strengths and weaknesses, what I love and do not love, I miss still my purpose in the grand scheme of things. I am a mortal that bleeds upon being cut, that cries (or comes close to it) upon losing what is dear, one who sees a path but does not know what it is nor how to follow it. I can reflect on my past posts and see the emotions of the moment, the rights and wrongs frivolously thrown here and there like they were supposed to 'be' and so they 'were'. Every other minute tells me of what I've missed, of my inadequacy in fulfilling that time with something productive, of being unable to fill the vacuum that is a human mind with something, anything, just so one may think a little less, question a few times fewer. Each year it seems like I have approached and taken the jump off another peak in the sine wave of human growth, but where does the next jump land me? Higher or lower than the wave before it? Is my slope nothing or something, defined or infinite? As I get older, the gap between what I have and what I need to maintain a life(style) befitting of a Muslim, gets only larger. I see mistakes, like I have before, but still I cannot always bring myself to care. Still, a piece is missing, a piece I have thought of as imaan/faith, but that comes and goes. So what is it that I am truly seeking? What is it that I have sought all this time, the sum of everything before that time has/will lead me to?


- in the name of Allah -

Ah, the contemplations of life. How they vary from time to time and place to place. Aside from the typical blargage that is academia and finals, I've actually had a few thoughts of dissimilitude.

Sun and Moon

...asking the most popular puppets of the day, they'd choose to be Suns shining brightly, with staffs in hand to whip and command, throw wealth and influence around and show off their control over the land. but ask me, and I might choose to be a Moon, not quite as brightly blinding or self-sustaining in visual glamour, but quietly echoing a sense of serenity while emanating a glow both dependent on and farthest from the Sun's vanity. Suns and Moons might be compared as Fire and Ice, and though that debate could earnestly last forever into nothing, I'd personally rather choose moonlit Ice, farthest from the action but plenty close to knowing the meaning of its own existence. Though one rises to enable sight and civilization's bustle, the one that falls to guide wary travelers in the darkness that is night appeals more fully to one of evident contradiction, seeking both humanity and its isolation, both companionship and solitary contemplation, onwardly going without solute or solvent to a solution of sheer inward gravitation. why I come less to the land of words, either written or typed, in anyone's guess, wandering or wondering still I assume, a role more attuned to things assured and concretely groomed. how does a Moon pick up its scattered light in a desert when all the canopies have been stripped away of their green, now only gray and yellow, a sign of negligence and decay? I need mirrors, reflections deep and illuminating, true and reverberating, not in myself, but in another or others, without fear of destiny's hand always hovering. a touch of truth, of a nature genuine, of a brush in hand, of a painter's ploy or plea to sanity, to draw an answer human to all the questions plaguing me..