- in the name of Allah -
Over the last few days:
Torrential
clouds came by earlier today, bringing rivulets of rain to stream down my face;
it was nice to see some things unchanged, a simple joy to remember when it rains.
scattered often is a twinless aim, amidst the wind and sound of fallen rain,
only wisps of vapor rise, grasping straws by errant paws, to catch a truth before its lyse:
though every downpour must end some day, and every river in due course will run dry,
a prism of yours always perpetual remains, to bring forth from every storm a rainbow sky.
6.28.2016
6.18.2016
- in the name of Allah -
It's been one of the rare times lately, where various rhymes and couplets and poetics have stirred or come randomly to mind in the past few days. Not sure which of them to pick out of the pot and start cooking with. How do I tell if one stream of thought is more worth being written than another? Maybe the simplest route is to not choose any and instead take something right off the top and see where it ends..
~~~~~
following the string, see where it leads, words become wings, though not quite something that breathes. soaring high into clouds, almost beyond sight or scope, company rarefied all around, for this the birthplace of hope. enmities and envies, evils and emptiness, such concerns vanish as levies, overthrown by thunderstorms that wash away regret. though faith waxes and wanes, like the breeze of sunny days, always behind is what truth remains, cleansing the soul by snow and hail and rain. among the pillars in prose that persist, red is by far the color for the heart, a ventricle without equal it's known if one carefully listens, to the beating that won't ever stop once it starts.
~~~~~
It's been one of the rare times lately, where various rhymes and couplets and poetics have stirred or come randomly to mind in the past few days. Not sure which of them to pick out of the pot and start cooking with. How do I tell if one stream of thought is more worth being written than another? Maybe the simplest route is to not choose any and instead take something right off the top and see where it ends..
~~~~~
following the string, see where it leads, words become wings, though not quite something that breathes. soaring high into clouds, almost beyond sight or scope, company rarefied all around, for this the birthplace of hope. enmities and envies, evils and emptiness, such concerns vanish as levies, overthrown by thunderstorms that wash away regret. though faith waxes and wanes, like the breeze of sunny days, always behind is what truth remains, cleansing the soul by snow and hail and rain. among the pillars in prose that persist, red is by far the color for the heart, a ventricle without equal it's known if one carefully listens, to the beating that won't ever stop once it starts.
~~~~~
6.13.2016
- in the name of Allah -
a Ramadan in passing, don't be so quick to leave, let me see your brilliance, no matter where the heart may flee. so much to find of subtle wisdoms and truths, days take eons to pass but the night and its prayer passes in a blink, almost overdue. sometimes imaan is like sand running through the fingers, an hourglass already emptied with soon the bones to follow and wither, wish I could hold it all together in one place and moment, before the paint dries on this canvas and my soul gets delivered. of edges and angels, falling over or shaded by ambiance in ample, every second becomes a fork in the road, determined to reveal the consequence of what was spent, at the end of what we all sow.
a Ramadan in passing, don't be so quick to leave, let me see your brilliance, no matter where the heart may flee. so much to find of subtle wisdoms and truths, days take eons to pass but the night and its prayer passes in a blink, almost overdue. sometimes imaan is like sand running through the fingers, an hourglass already emptied with soon the bones to follow and wither, wish I could hold it all together in one place and moment, before the paint dries on this canvas and my soul gets delivered. of edges and angels, falling over or shaded by ambiance in ample, every second becomes a fork in the road, determined to reveal the consequence of what was spent, at the end of what we all sow.
6.11.2016
- in the name of Allah -
Began reading ASoIaF a few days ago, it's quite beautifully written and a captivating story. Kinda expected given the intricacy of the TV show made from it, but there are always some things a based-on-book production can't encapsulate because of content and time constraints. It's strange, though I'm in the middle of the first book, I know the futures of some characters from the show, and it's like looking through a portal back in time, seeing (and refining) how they came to be who they are in the story's present. Just like with LOST, ty.
Among the most particularly relevant quotes (and it's got tons) : "...and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge." So true this is. It has been too long since I recall the days when reading was enjoyable, no doubt there are parts of me along the seams still there waiting to be found.
Began reading ASoIaF a few days ago, it's quite beautifully written and a captivating story. Kinda expected given the intricacy of the TV show made from it, but there are always some things a based-on-book production can't encapsulate because of content and time constraints. It's strange, though I'm in the middle of the first book, I know the futures of some characters from the show, and it's like looking through a portal back in time, seeing (and refining) how they came to be who they are in the story's present. Just like with LOST, ty.
Among the most particularly relevant quotes (and it's got tons) : "...and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge." So true this is. It has been too long since I recall the days when reading was enjoyable, no doubt there are parts of me along the seams still there waiting to be found.
6.08.2016
- in the name of Allah -
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-36479386
While desi culture has some positive aspects, this backwards shit just needs to fade into history; truly pitiful and disgusting and abhorrent that human beings can still think and act like this. Similar to the "honor" killings article I recall posting a long time back, same story and little's changed from society's perspective. How do people who do this justify themselves in front of Allah? in front of their family/friends/neighbors? Is human life worth so little compared with a parent's 'dignity/respect' that they would sacrifice them for it? Perhaps it is easier to kill the women/females who go against tradition because they weren't born male? ...
And then so many of Pakistan's religious groups "protest" against the amendment which outlaws violence against women...seriously....VIOLENCE...against women. What the fuck are these "religious" idiots thinking? Do they not understand an iota of the sunnah of the Nabi (saw)? How is it so difficult for today's people to understand the kind of laws they need, in order to be prevented from their own stupidity and ignorance? I really didn't need more reasons to reinforce my misanthropy about people..
It's unfortunate to be posting something so dour, but Ramadan began a few days ago; it was supposed to be a happier time. Alhamdulillah I got to see it, and iA make it better than Ramadans of recent memory - duas always needed but especially in blessed times.
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-36479386
While desi culture has some positive aspects, this backwards shit just needs to fade into history; truly pitiful and disgusting and abhorrent that human beings can still think and act like this. Similar to the "honor" killings article I recall posting a long time back, same story and little's changed from society's perspective. How do people who do this justify themselves in front of Allah? in front of their family/friends/neighbors? Is human life worth so little compared with a parent's 'dignity/respect' that they would sacrifice them for it? Perhaps it is easier to kill the women/females who go against tradition because they weren't born male? ...
And then so many of Pakistan's religious groups "protest" against the amendment which outlaws violence against women...seriously....VIOLENCE...against women. What the fuck are these "religious" idiots thinking? Do they not understand an iota of the sunnah of the Nabi (saw)? How is it so difficult for today's people to understand the kind of laws they need, in order to be prevented from their own stupidity and ignorance? I really didn't need more reasons to reinforce my misanthropy about people..
It's unfortunate to be posting something so dour, but Ramadan began a few days ago; it was supposed to be a happier time. Alhamdulillah I got to see it, and iA make it better than Ramadans of recent memory - duas always needed but especially in blessed times.
6.03.2016
- in the name of Allah -
Among the times I go back through some of my older posts here and reading the comments people left, one thing really struck me: so often a compliment or admiration they'd write...but you know what? That wasn't at ALL what I was looking for in those posts. So much of what I reflected then was the pain of my history, yet for many onlookers, this was...a curiosity, a thing to admire, like a painting of a holocaust on a museum wall that's looked at with admiration/respect for the artistry - but the response to it is utterly devoid and non-reflective of the actual adversity being represented within it. Such a casual, roundabout way of thinking some people have, they can see pain, obvious or cloaked, and comment happily to have read it, lending no word of commiseration or dua or advice/guidance. That's not to say some didn't leave good advice, they did. But it was really amazing to notice, in the big picture of things, how different was what went into writing a post and the kinds of replies it lead to. Strange but true, c'est la vie.
Onwards, flying to more pleasant thoughts-
walking slowly, blindfolds there and still just enough tight, the pace is steady but their holding, to the side lush greens and gardens, palms of trees laden in fruit leaning over to yield their produce at ripest beck and calling. through the shade of centuries, pass we by mere seconds as if walking on a carpeted breeze, there's things ahead I need to show but only for one to see. perhaps I'll begin my brush's stroke with the waterfall cascades, at its base we sit to relish the mist, taking in rivers of milk and honey and the finest champagne, things to drink not for thirst but pleasure's purpose only and first, gifts from our Creator well-pleased and in front of us His promises dispersed. we haven't even reached our mansions or their thrones, perches fit for seekers and the sought, when our mates from balconies above call us home, to laugh and smile and relish in all the mercy from our Rabb we could ever want or know.
an eternal springtime of the spotless minds, here coalesces hope from fruit into wine.
Among the times I go back through some of my older posts here and reading the comments people left, one thing really struck me: so often a compliment or admiration they'd write...but you know what? That wasn't at ALL what I was looking for in those posts. So much of what I reflected then was the pain of my history, yet for many onlookers, this was...a curiosity, a thing to admire, like a painting of a holocaust on a museum wall that's looked at with admiration/respect for the artistry - but the response to it is utterly devoid and non-reflective of the actual adversity being represented within it. Such a casual, roundabout way of thinking some people have, they can see pain, obvious or cloaked, and comment happily to have read it, lending no word of commiseration or dua or advice/guidance. That's not to say some didn't leave good advice, they did. But it was really amazing to notice, in the big picture of things, how different was what went into writing a post and the kinds of replies it lead to. Strange but true, c'est la vie.
Onwards, flying to more pleasant thoughts-
walking slowly, blindfolds there and still just enough tight, the pace is steady but their holding, to the side lush greens and gardens, palms of trees laden in fruit leaning over to yield their produce at ripest beck and calling. through the shade of centuries, pass we by mere seconds as if walking on a carpeted breeze, there's things ahead I need to show but only for one to see. perhaps I'll begin my brush's stroke with the waterfall cascades, at its base we sit to relish the mist, taking in rivers of milk and honey and the finest champagne, things to drink not for thirst but pleasure's purpose only and first, gifts from our Creator well-pleased and in front of us His promises dispersed. we haven't even reached our mansions or their thrones, perches fit for seekers and the sought, when our mates from balconies above call us home, to laugh and smile and relish in all the mercy from our Rabb we could ever want or know.
an eternal springtime of the spotless minds, here coalesces hope from fruit into wine.