- in the name of Allah -

One of the biggest issues with making long journeys is not being worn down by them. Depending on how long it is, however, such a state might be unavoidable. This is where I find myself. Life, as the consummately worthy journey, fails to hold the same blaze of yearning for me that it once did. What goals are there to have that will not erode in time, that will pass the test of history while we are still alive? My single footprint on humanity is so small, I have affected so few, that I should think my purpose little more than to live out the rest of my days. I do not wish to lead, per se, nor do I wish to be a blind follower. However, the roads for the one seeking the in-between are few, if any. I have lost or am losing my passion, for wanting, for having, for needing..that which compels humanity forward, gives it purpose it can taste in the air and reason as fire to send the senses alight. My idealism hasn't existed for years now, but its shell now seems to have been felled in whole. How shall I find again the spark, that drove me once, and without which I feel I shall forever static remain?


- in the name of Allah -

how empty are lives full of only echoes? times gone by and history books written ages ago, left no records of the soul that might teach one how to grow. stagnation is the beck and call of my day, forever listless, while thunderous ambitions of air reach for stars seemingly no longer there. there is no road behind me, but no path ahead; I could forge it as I go, but would that be enough for me instead? as life goes on, or its semblance thereof, I wonder if its worth it all: the journey, the end, the toil, the shackles of ourselves. I reach amongst the phantoms, seeking substance to fill a void; of course the impossibilities stare back at me, amazed at how insane I seem. I 'know' the answers, I have 'heard' of remedies, but are these tales enough to solve the issue that is me?

- unfinished -