8.19.2017

- in the name of Allah -

___
From Assassin's Quest, 3rd book in the Farseer Trilogy:

"You've changed," I managed to say.

"Have I? I imagine I have. How could I not have changed? I thought you dead, and all my life for naught. Then now, this moment, to be given back both you and my life's purpose ... I opened my eyes to you and thought my heart would stop, that madness had finally claimed me. Then you spoke my name. Changed, you say? More than you can imagine, as much as you have plainly changed yourself. This night, I hardly know myself." 
___

Somehow, I can recall a few moments like this in life. Hard to describe the meaning in them without ending up babbling or rambling or otherwise seeming touched by madness myself, but they were momentous. Doubtless all of those times are just reminders from Allah keeping me afloat through difficulty. I survived nothing except that He was my aid, fell into nothing but that He pulled me out of it, found no door to good save that He willed it open. People who don't appreciate God simply don't grasp His favors, don't see into the wisdom that surrounds their daily lives. Life is just a series of tests to see who retains gratitude and humility before his Creator after those trials. Submission to anything besides Allah is humiliation and degradation, while submission to Him surpasses the beauty and depth of the universe itself.

8.15.2017

- in the name of Allah -



Second day back at work, alhamdulillah it feels nice returning to a sense of normalcy. Also today, heard from an old friend that I hadn't spoken with in maybe 10 years. He'd moved to Cali after studying few years overseas, settled down there with wife and two kids. MashaAllah, good to be reacquainted. 

Otherwise had a few interesting dreams of the night before. In one, I'm dining with someone somewhere (felt like it was a particular someone, but then most dreams of mine with people seem particular-inclined), discussing fairly standard topics for me: the pain and price of waiting, outlook, perspectives, etc. All the while this is being talked about, I recall myself meticulously moving food (butter chicken) around with my spoon/fork, like to certain sides of the platter.  Delicious but ?_? Still it was quite serene and generally uplifting alh, though I wish I could have remembered if she said anything. In the other dream, I'm on this sort of ship or race course, competing with random people I don't recall, there's a bunch of sharp twists and turns like in a maze, and somehow I'm at the forefront. While I'm racing there's a conversation going on in my mind about something I built in the past and one part of me (or someone else) is wondering why my first spaceship hasn't been revisited, why the current one is taking so long to build. For some reason, the word 'spacey' comes to mind, some hunch that I'm building for the future.

Nothing really out-there, most of it I can place into personal context quite easily alh. As for the things I cannot, here's to hoping they're pleasant and longed-for surprises iA 🌹


8.12.2017

- in the name of Allah - 



If life were a pair of scissors, with reality its blade,
then long have I been ribbons.

Freely flowing, untethered to this worldly plane,
just holding on to what I'm given.

-
Read over again, words with meaning laden,
alas were they a bowl of soup.

That I might find your presence a spoonful haven,
ready to fill stomach & sadness too.

-
I'm a Fool, but yet pray your smile always stays,
undaunted by joys to come.

For though I might glimpse tomorrow's tune,
its melody is born in the good today we've done.




8.10.2017

- in the name of Allah -

 
"I knew the wisdom of Patience's course, but wisdom does not allay loneliness." 
- The Royal Assassin, Farseer Trilogy 

In all contexts, I find this is true. 

However, while wisdom may not allay loneliness, it does provide clues as to how best find the path that would resolve it. Life here was never meant or intended to be a cure for people, just a part of the journey we have to take. Like all travellers, take what you need from it and leave whatever isn't worth carrying. So that when we find our end, we have with us at least some most treasured deeds to show our Creator, perhaps found worthy of His mercy.




 

8.06.2017

- in the name of Allah -


alas for the heart that can always bleed, alas for the ducts that never dry, some things are fated indeed, even if then we never understood the why. 

my pens have not run out of ink, the soul has yet to bequeath the ocean all its waves, enough time still for me to breathe, ruminate how to be His truer slave.

without question or doubt the color is red, in the veins from before I was born, till long after the body is dead, awaiting when we're joined instead.

as one stalwart support I've now lost, these hopes remain my wings, to keep afloat with what only Allah gives, to survive this journey despite its cost.

my end, oh Rabb, bring it near, make me not walk this road too long, that I ever approach again despair, nor make anguish again a lasting song.

my dream, oh Rabb, is only Yours to keep, You Who gave it life, You Who made it purely gleam; of all others am I bereft, so to You only do I plead: plant it firm, growing underneath the Shade of Your Throne, native to the Seventh in origin and form, guarded always by Ar-Rahmanir-Rahim, Ameen.

8.03.2017

- in the name of Allah - 


immaterial

no way to describe this hole that was once always filled, words of 'condolences' and words in general, of even less substance than previously imaginable. there is no voice for me to utter, no way to encapsulate, the meaning or measure of a man, who lived before I'd been conceived by fate. rarely liked, loved always, a fortress against the winds of life, his was a hand more likely to strike in punishment than with tenderness hold, such was the way of one who'd lost his mother early on long before he'd grown. of flaws and faults, layers of subjective insufficiency, I could go on, but all of those now matter naught, the earth of his grave is now his home. what lingers on, his legacy in my veins, blood I never asked for but given by my Rabb all the same, that I might perchance take heed of lessons once let slip through fingers into sands of time now vanished, to build on the good he had, not repeat his mistakes, to diffuse the anger, mellow suspicion, and pour blissfully cold water over hate, letting fall away the grudges his generation so easily made.

I am the me of always, one who lives, who loves, who remains, seemingly till dunya itself grinds away all our better ambitions to dust with its ever luring gaze. at times my aim seems too high, too grandiose, spectral imaginings by a ghost yet mortal of longing utterly beyond his scope: of places quite near to the Throne, of palaces for queenly Beacons and hands of peerless Hoors for mine to hold, of such company in knowledge and purity and truth, as nearly shames me to compare my love to what they do, but it is so: such are they who encompass the best of humanity, who take my ideals to their fullest, giving breadth of meaning meant by being Allah's best of creation.

I long for that place, knowing well I am less than pauper for the price it needs paid, that the sum of all my life's deeds could by one hour of those elevated be met or exceeded, that I am not even the wolf howling at the moon's reflection in a lake whose depth I cannot begin to fathom, a place so vast in its beauty and essence, a thousand lifetimes of mine would not suffice to build a bridge worthy of its entrance. so why would a lowly slave long for such a Home when he's barely worth the shelter of a cave? it is: because his soul mines in those caverns diamonds he's never seen but by their dust their brilliance he's known; because the light inside him, now condensed where once it scattered, pulls with a force towards its ilk that nothing on this earth can measure or mold or fracture; because though he knows not how he'll find death, the mercy of his Rabb shelters all his hopes, and so with Him are they all gathered.

8.01.2017

- in the name of Allah -

[wrote much of this a few days ago, maybe Saturday, did not foresee the irony of being physically near my dad's actual tombstone so soon. such is the Qadr of Allah, He does as He wills.]

written on the tombstone of my soul:

'in this life was he never whole, 
parted like the seas he'd never seen,
a command to Be, and it split in twain,
away went the half, which was not his own;

so the rest of time which to him remained,
he sought to reunite the rhine- with its -stone,
planting in patience the seeds of pain, slowly grown,
that from their embers, roots might spring forth,
to reach at last the comfort of a long-lost Home;

all he ever felt, all he ever wrote,
were but reminders from his Rabb,
signs and blessings, remembrance to be kept close.

life would bring its tragedies, would pour forth its sorrow,
like a cloud releasing burdens, upon a field grown sallow,
so this ground, his soul, might soak up all the rain,
yet still choose to submit to Him, for He was both the means,
and the Aim.'