- in the name of Allah -

Been a short while since my last posting, seems like forever as usual. As one my expect, I approach crossroads almost daily, sometimes making deals (a la Supernatural) and sometimes failing. I can't help but rhyme even when its sense is waning...ahhh, all of this is rhyming lol. t_t

The following is a something collected from about a month ago, and finished up just now. I need thoughts and prayers from everyone, please! May Allah reward all who do so with better, ameen.

These are the times, these are the ways, when vanities fall and get caught in the shade.

Aftermath after the fact, divisible indeed by 0 though it tramples on math,

Past the numbers and nature’s laws, I’m stuck in the teeth of a timeless tiger’s jaws.

Evident, inescapable, inevitable: “fate”, a spidery thread, woven in waves interminable,

An excuse, at times, for mistakes and inadequacies, misunderstandings and overstated fallacies.

Having its wings have broken and caved, which road follows the moth in order to be saved?

After all, there are so many candles, so many flames, burning brightly, promises of burial in suede,

Almost as if in its ending, life would carry more options & choices than its beginning.

Surprised I’m not, but cynics typically aren’t, still holding ideals while their antithesis remains apparent.

Please then consider, how the world is all a-twitter, a-bound and abased in spite all its glitter,

Futures of minerals and mammals on markets exchanged, taking guarantees from tomorrow for today,

One rich man’s life becomes worth a million of poor, after collateral damage the total is just a bit more.

I wish I could blame all of this infamy on my birth, but without all those choices I made, I’d remain just a drop of semen falling to earth. From dust I was made, and to dust my bones return, where my end is I can only hope, just wishing the path there wasn’t so damned absurd.



- in the name of Allah -

Strange times, these, when the mind can see paths clear as day and every thing, every piece of the puzzle of life falls right into place. No, my dunya is not settled; no, my wife is not found; no, my career has not materialized; no, I have not discerned the next step for me to take. Yet, what is this clarity I can speak of, if none of these are not on that path?

I think I have approached some irrefutable truths in life, truths I had not known before, but are critical in order for me to continue my progression in life.

Firstly: sometimes the brightest lights can only be seen from the darkest of depths. We cannot appreciate what tawakkul means until we are (or see a point) far removed from it. What is "tawakkul"? It is the Arabic term for 'reliance unto God', in all affairs. It is a sacred trust, that the believing servant invokes with He Who created him. I have difficulty imagining that I have the ability to affect every single change or wish in life - rather, this is frankly impossible. I do not possess neither the power or faculty for that. If I cannot do everything for myself, shouldn't I have a source of reliance, wherewith to place all of my fears and insecurities and wonderings? I could not have it any other way, and I find it unimaginable that there exist people in life who live as though they rule the ground on which they walk. Surely, that very same earth beneath their feet might not crumble or quake or explode in volcanic fury, right? Guarantees they have against it I'm sure; delusional, to say the least. Once we internalize the whole of our weakness, is when we can begin to find strength in reliance.

Secondly: There is the rope of Allah, and then there is the chain of the shayateen (devils). A rope is generally made as a means of assistance, carrying things, and pulling them up. A chain is generally made as a means of restriction, punishment in limiting one's freedom and mobility. Interestingly, a rope can also choke whereas a chain can also give lift in times of need. The parallels are chilling once I thought about it. Either one has a rope connected to Allah, or one is bound by a chain to a shaytan. The key is not to confuse one with the other, and not fall into any extremes which might lead to being bound by that which was supposed to save. How can one know which is which? If it leads you back to God, it is the rope; if it leads you back to yourself, then it is the chain. By leading back to yourself, I mean essentially that it serves its purpose by being a means of fulfilling its own wishes, vanities, whims. Even more interestingly, chains can be very well adorned, such as with jewelry and the like, so they may appear attractive and worthy of the wearer. Alas, they would not be, just fool's gold and a desert's mirage. Either you are reminded of your own subservience to God, or you are reminded of your own ego, slave to either the Creator or your own nafs/id. Sometimes a chain is not evident until it is too late, and it has wrapped itself around its wielder tightly at the time of death. Thought to be a source of pride and dignity in the face of men, it would be just a cement block dragging one down to the deepest depths. Conversely, a rope can easily cause burns if it moves too fast, or become a noose should extremes be approached. Unlike chains, ropes are generally not fanciful, and are unadorned with anything pleasing at first glance. Still, its long-term utility is far more preferable than the inevitable imprisonment offered by the chain.

iA, my words haven't obfuscated the meaning and message I intended.


- in the name of Allah -

I have yet it seems to solve the mysteries of my being. Instead of going outward and seeking answers, I've lately just enforced a no-fly zone around my life, trying to keep all the dissonant forces out. Needless to say, this kind of embargo can't work and definitely can't last. Ironic as it seems, I yearn to be with and around people as I ever have, so this epoch does not appear to be as past ones, where isolation was sought for the sake of isolation.

How do people resolve their differences with life? How I wish to live and let live, is not something found often or ever in this life, and the few times I have tried assimilating, it has seemed almost a borg-like invasion of myself by every worldly impression trying to remove my identity and stamp its own in my place. I am definitely from this life, there are many I love and who ground me here, yet for all of that, I feel like I have never belonged in a time, a place, such as I do now. Before I might have said I felt I belonged to the most perfect of places, Jannah, but now I know with certainty that I'm far beneath such stature.

How much should people compromise with life, with their peers and bosses, to find that balance between self-expression and external structure? How many 'harsh realities' do we allow to substitute for our own ideals? How long do we hold on to these ideals, though like the rope mentioned in this blog's title, it might burn the hands of its holder?

One of my primary wishes out of life used to be finding a wife and being married. After a handful of failed attempts at this, and watching numerous other marriages either suffer or fall victim to gross inequity, I wonder just how far gone 'marriage' has become in society these days. Is it a toy, with which we play upon choosing, letting go when bored or found difficult? Of course, this is hateful to me. I still only wish to be married for me, not for any other reason. Alas, fathers of many a daughter see this singular desire as inadequate in securing their daughters' futures. The fact that such a logical, understandable objection on their part leads me further down into my foxhole of perceived rebellion and dissonance from the norm does not give cause for any celebration. I should be able to empathize with their position, to take the mantle of provider and guardian with gusto. Yet, I feel those positions of theirs are reinforcements of the very ideological constraints I hate and feel are uselessly imposed by weak, timid minds fearing the worst and unwilling to give time for hope to blossom. Should we have all the answers before we go for a test, or must those answers at times be found on the spot? Why do people insist on living in their own realities when it comes to their personal actions (and reactions), yet when spoken to plainly would champion causes of self-determination and manifest destiny?

I think I understand the rationale, but I do not yet accept it. Reasons as to how and why I should will always be appreciated.


Clouds and their rain, tears streaming down my mind's face, epically entrained, imagined beyond time or space,
rules just golden lances, pretty but of emotion hapless,
burst these bubbles, slowly let drift,
foam of oceans, count the short shrift,
questions abound in every eddy, answers arrive as typhoons aplenty,
the best road at treacherous depth, wisdom's pearls long safely kept,
drown or wallow, risk in both of waters deep and shallow,
truths buried perhaps too far beneath, praying for a soul not far out of reach.


- in the name of Allah -

Been fighting over and over the same battles, so long that I thought I'd finally had them all handled, fooled I was, trodden and close to trampled, but look around - take a sample: all from the basic formulas that just keep on slipping through the cracks, in my fingers and hands, the gist of it all to make rights from wrongs and realities of dreams. How many times will I think I've figured me and this life all out, before come these thunderstorms to drown surety all away with doubt? Even as I fight time's passing in my own mind by thinking I have some left, the hourglass tips backward, broken, bereft, the grains being blown away by ideals unkept. I'm a fool, naive, thinking still to hold my own against society, against communal forces that shrink and shrivel persona until it bleeds the same colors and wears the same sleeves. Who am I, what is me, that dares make bold claims, thinking truth and what people need to hear are one and the same? How many fallacies will I have tripped over before I can finally see, discerning in this shrouded path my destiny?

My only company remains, prayers and pleas, eternally unchanged: to save others but also for myself to be saved, to gather hope in a jar and keep it from thieves and assassins afar, to hold tight and near my beloved and friends and parry for them all worse intent, that no matter how far I stray from the Straight Path my Rabb has both my hand and my back, carrying me when I can only falter and granting me roof when I've shunned all shelter, ameen...ameen...ameen.


- in the name of Allah -

Overcast skies, burdened with rain, not yet falling but imminent any day, cloudy but promising, wondering how long and which way. Some threads I've held on to since my beginning, slowly shrinking, disintegrating, the anti-matter of reality with its penetrating beams of 'be-like-me-or-perish' - a fallacy at best to be sure, but unquestionably for now a perilous cancer to me without cure. Glass houses, idealism at its finest, crashing and collapsing every so often, soon I'll be without any molten base material to make more and be left houseless and mentally dampened.

I dislike pessimists, yet falling into such traps is a perfect devil's hampering. Caught in my own webs of personal conceit, unable to find a mirror for the life of me, wondering if I'm now villain or hero or beast, where's the U-turn on this remote to rewind these crumbling scenes? I want to muster love but can find no object, having always searched for someone to carry and fill my other half since the time I started without regrets. Speaking of which, they're (those regrets) are piling up high now, asking their own questions, poking and prodding, chasing after my potential lost without will to protect or invest in.

I need prayers and a fresh rope, one not nearly burned out, but full of light and hope, not shrouding in darkness or becoming even remotely heartless, but vibrant and strong enough to lead me past these times into a death worthy of life and purpose.


- in the name of Allah -

As a sort of addendum to my last posting, my battle against the force of me that leans toward daylight and the force that leans toward nighttime continues (guess which I'm referring to, should be obvious I think). Having chosen night shifts as my main time of work is not really helping matters. I am truly in a state of flux and confusion.

Cracks, seams, sieves, slowly opening up things that bleed, arteries and veins, letting precious drops of life slowly leave. Where are my bandages whereby I may stop those silent thieves, disguised as advisers but apparent as deceivers and covert contrivers. My path is obvious but thorny, my vision shaken and my mind dulled and confused, the narcotic of allure continues its drip despite all my efforts to stem its melodic rhetoric. My guard lulled to sleep, my sense of day put to sloth, tiny little devils creep inside and leave easter eggs to find for me. People tell me I can control this, that I can choose when to rise or when to take rest, but what of the test when the body betrays the soul and goes off on its own? Likewise, when alert and awake, my soul does what it wills without contest, regarding not the duty to its flesh, fleeting ambitions of flames not worth even mention by name. My greatest enemy yet I fear is still me, illusions trapped in solidified crystal, deemed to be immaterially superior and still beneficial. If and when my illusions shatter, how would their matter be put back together finding form from whence they'd scattered? Without a shadow's doubt, all I will have, as I ever did, is my Rabb's grace holding my good in place, while slowly the worst and most evil is drained away. Here's to praying these fires are cathartic and blessings only felt painful but definitely helping and need-fulfilling. Ameen...