- in the name of Allah -
sometimes fingers need to be freed to do as they please, triggering words from thoughts held too deep inside one's self to see. looking often for fresh air to breathe, not often finding time to just stand and observe nature in its own scene, these are days that just mesh together silently, bound by times of disasters that fall like lightning strikes on once-safe pastures. it might be I too count among the sheep, but colorblind to tell what the difference in shades might mean, so I wander from the flock seeking freedom from being slaughtered for wool or meat, thinking I've found sanctuary but in truth another stray for the wolves to pick apart with their sharpest of teeth.
time, that old friend, it comes for me again, from old recesses once treaded, beneath the oceans in caverns where purpose once crumbled and lay compressed, but time now knows that it too will give in, like any beginning in life has its pair with an ending.
1.25.2017
1.19.2017
- in the name of Allah -
I wish some ripples could my self reach, across any ocean or river or creek, so even if outside was sun to shine inside there would be rain to make puddles with reflections of others for me to find. All for the moment, static impressions of lives being lived with various efforts, towards some vague but assumable purposes and endings; my lone regret in this midst of busy bees, to be a comet just a shade off visible course, so in their skies I may be seen, but in mine they're just slightly out of phase and misaligned. I know some orbits take the entirety of a lifetime, coming back around to meet again heavenly companions in stride, I know some risks, even look forward to the epilogue, but by Allah, I hope my own journey doesn't take quite so long.
~<@
I wish some ripples could my self reach, across any ocean or river or creek, so even if outside was sun to shine inside there would be rain to make puddles with reflections of others for me to find. All for the moment, static impressions of lives being lived with various efforts, towards some vague but assumable purposes and endings; my lone regret in this midst of busy bees, to be a comet just a shade off visible course, so in their skies I may be seen, but in mine they're just slightly out of phase and misaligned. I know some orbits take the entirety of a lifetime, coming back around to meet again heavenly companions in stride, I know some risks, even look forward to the epilogue, but by Allah, I hope my own journey doesn't take quite so long.
~<@
1.15.2017
- in the name of Allah -
SubhanaAllah. Didn't quite expect to know a place like this. Then again, a year and half ago, didn't expect I'd ever marry either. Now thoughts and consequences drift to not being married any longer. I wish I could say there was some emotion worth having in regards to the person involved, but there isn't. What truly digs at me though, what I fear the most, is the possibility that I may be leaving behind something Allah wanted good for me in. The only issue is, by every mortal lens I have, by every human judgment I can make, there is precious little truly good there in the relationship that is worth trying to hang on to.
Suffice it to say, the current eventuality is what the person needed I didn't have, the bipolarity and extreme reactions to so many things, such narcissism to make a person cringe, erased any potential that I could have found emotionally, leaving just an utter and wholly repulsive taste in the mouth. Whatever good one hand might make, the other hand would destroy.
The decisive step is for me to make Istikharah. Innately wary and reluctant to do so for a long time, but in my evolving, I figure I had better brave that too iA: the unknowable, trying to move forward with only human knowledge at hand, uncertain if there was a path worthy of being taken there that would lead me closer to Allah ultimately. iA I'll find one who wants to seek Him too.
SubhanaAllah. Didn't quite expect to know a place like this. Then again, a year and half ago, didn't expect I'd ever marry either. Now thoughts and consequences drift to not being married any longer. I wish I could say there was some emotion worth having in regards to the person involved, but there isn't. What truly digs at me though, what I fear the most, is the possibility that I may be leaving behind something Allah wanted good for me in. The only issue is, by every mortal lens I have, by every human judgment I can make, there is precious little truly good there in the relationship that is worth trying to hang on to.
Suffice it to say, the current eventuality is what the person needed I didn't have, the bipolarity and extreme reactions to so many things, such narcissism to make a person cringe, erased any potential that I could have found emotionally, leaving just an utter and wholly repulsive taste in the mouth. Whatever good one hand might make, the other hand would destroy.
The decisive step is for me to make Istikharah. Innately wary and reluctant to do so for a long time, but in my evolving, I figure I had better brave that too iA: the unknowable, trying to move forward with only human knowledge at hand, uncertain if there was a path worthy of being taken there that would lead me closer to Allah ultimately. iA I'll find one who wants to seek Him too.
1.08.2017
- in the name of Allah -
some scars, they heal and fade; some scars, they throb and enrage; some scars, they seethe and swell; and then, some scars, they soothe and bring back to health. here's to recollections and projections of pasts and futures meshing into the present, merging threads of consequence and choice into one indivisible line of evidence: pointing forward and marking the road, aiding in moments where I blink, and light by nature into darkness folds, so even in mistakes, by the grace of Allah, I return my gaze back toward Him and the ultimate of goals.
this blog, this little space I carve onto walls with a pen like a knife in a cave, is my little Ark, a vessel to carry those thoughts that from elsewhere flee and come to find respite like a lamp needs oil to spark. the soul is a fickle thing, it oft waxes and wanes without pause or precedence or time to think, but such is this niche that varying strands of light coalesce in its cradle, growing from mere infirmity to fable, a story still being written to change 'couldn't' into 'able' - inshaAllah and may He make it always so, ameen.
some scars, they heal and fade; some scars, they throb and enrage; some scars, they seethe and swell; and then, some scars, they soothe and bring back to health. here's to recollections and projections of pasts and futures meshing into the present, merging threads of consequence and choice into one indivisible line of evidence: pointing forward and marking the road, aiding in moments where I blink, and light by nature into darkness folds, so even in mistakes, by the grace of Allah, I return my gaze back toward Him and the ultimate of goals.
this blog, this little space I carve onto walls with a pen like a knife in a cave, is my little Ark, a vessel to carry those thoughts that from elsewhere flee and come to find respite like a lamp needs oil to spark. the soul is a fickle thing, it oft waxes and wanes without pause or precedence or time to think, but such is this niche that varying strands of light coalesce in its cradle, growing from mere infirmity to fable, a story still being written to change 'couldn't' into 'able' - inshaAllah and may He make it always so, ameen.