- in the name of Allah -


Still breathing, still alive, beyond my own will there's forces my self keeping, standing, walking, eating, while the rebel in me that disdained forever this cage, screams in unspent rage at things he cannot do or have or say, of tests looped ad infinitum, while nearly driven to madness like a cup overflowing to brim. A friend wished once he was a blade of grass, though on such a grounded wish I'd surely pass, for myself I'd be the birds and their wings, carried off by wind and will, to places nearby or places beyond human reach. Always the air, whether in storms or weather fair, always a route to be found for the avian with energy to expend, if it ever sought to find Elsweyr.

These lungs, they're borrowed, same as the skin and the bones, both the hollow and marrowed, these cells and physiologies, keeping in pace the rhythm of hearts and the body's means, no credit of mine to take wherein there's nothing there I made, but still the soul seeks its breeze, flapping against currents only it can feel and see, trapped betwixt the ledge of this never-ending Present, and where tomorrow like a (sometimes fading) fancy gleams. Agony is my cellmate, so long as I live in life and breathe, becoming the blanket for when comes the chill of things left distant still, pervading through  stones and seeping through barred windowsills.

If there's one plea I can always make, whether the heart beats, or lies buried at stake, it is that an end to the dissonance between existence and myself, is not far off the course in time for me to help, that I never linger in life for a second more, than qadr itself has for me in store.