6.16.2013

- in the name of Allah - 


imagine the tears of trees who would weep if they could speak, telling stories of how their sisters and cousins faced bedlam and assassins by the dozens, how much green have they seen fall to earth, endured the leaves as they turn to dust and vanished with time and hurt, such a cruel fate it must have been to stand silent, unable to scream or whisper while axes and death were rampant. just as easily as all those countless leaves fell of their once-wholesome trees, do vanish and crumble the dreams of any who grow old in reality's teeth. I must find again those precious seeds, the essence of life and purpose all rolled into one neatly stacked paper sheet, processed and procured, yes, but its example eminent as a product through hardship refined and assured.

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