- in the name of Allah -



what happens to faint hopes when the sun sets? when dreams devolve into bees without stingers or a place to nest? skies still hold marvels as stars twinkle and sparkle, but my own horizons fade into the blackness, as dawns without light or summers without sweat. the void's been calling, beckoning in ways I'd never suspect, as meaning and worth crumble into dust or earth, too shallow for roots and only fit to be usurped. I wish often these nights that I might act as most people do, how they can walk despite their own insignificance, blind or uncaring of personal ignorance. they've said over and over, various factions that is, that simply one must 'do' in order for the fruit to be brought through, but from where forms their ambitions? what places of delusion shatter their inhibitions, turning them from demons into self-empowering prisons? maybe I'm caught in a stream of self-loathing, lacking in confidence where it should be something I'm owning, but seeing just a speck of the world's imperfections mirrors in me my own recession. a stream now overflows with perception, close to drowning in things unsolved and corruptions escaping correction; where's the lever for this dam to let loose these thoughts, so they might find their haven in some poor wretch who couldn't deserve what he'd sought? if only the whims of life stopped with mine, it remains that singular deeds, both good and evil, can wreck lifetimes made towards opposite designs. actions full to the brim with unknowable consequence, presumed good or at least innocent, but doomed to not knowing its wisdom and thus dissolved utterly in certainty's ignorance. this puzzle, these mazes, replete with U-turn signs and arrows describing progressive phases, seem to serve only as rhetorical punishment for dreams undeserved. when did life become for me so gray and bleak as to muzzle hopes and dreams, coloring them only as rewards for those who challenge and achieve? so what then of the meek, if I'd sought to be counted amongst these darkened sheep? need I symbols of position and power, wealth and status, to find myself not counted with those who's cause is seen as hapless? can I only become what all expect, enabled only thus to life this burden from my chest? so it is that thoughts wrap themselves up, as serpents upon prey, knowing its weakness but still giving chase if only for a sense of play. onward, to the belly of the beast! either to slay or be slain, to give or become, one final, wholesome feast.