-in the name of Allah-


day 1 of summer session is over, alh. didn't go badly at all, another blessing to be thankful for. in other news, decided to reinstate this blog. o_o


also, its odd how some people communicate, but alas, if it works it works.

-in the name of Allah-


what the hell am i thinking? sometimes i wonder if i really live in my physical body at all or do i visit other places while thinking to be conscious. i think, once in a while, one experiencing this should bang the head against a wall, then repose the question: what am i doing? o_o


i mean ffs, its as if i created words in my mind to take the place of what someone else said..what other greater form of self-delusion/fallacy can there be?!?!

-in the name of Allah-


so i went camping this past weekend. alhamdulillah, was a generally good experience. met my first beach (without attractions, alh) and saw the waves just crash on the shore. the skies, after rain, made their own cool forms, nice to see but even better when you could actually sit outside somewhat comfortably. in the past time or fore time, managed to write some poetics, release thoughts from within that just kept coming whether people liked it or not lol, but alh, a brain working is a brain able to think over its Creator


Under these stars what words can one soul compose? just enough perhaps to have built a crossing road, spanning seas of trials with wily winds of turbulence. gone past the learning phases and trifles of denial, i know that in life i've reach yet another plateau.
who are you that would not be of those already been, who are you that might solve the puzzle of whom and when? some notions i carry thus, of what becomes from ashes of apathy, exactly what one must. so what new plan have i designed, that might counter scenes previously contrived? i'm now aware and have accepted, how destiny and fate are both by one Single force directed. in the scheme of our existence, it matters little whether our flesh should ever meet, but wholly of this acquaintance that we might acquire a piety more than simply skin deep. with these words i conclude lines of early morning, iA so that in a span of this hour, we find an eternity more endearing.

Cloudy waves
why does the sky hold an animal's remains, rib cage and bones, a mirage soon to be changed? i see the whole as a picture's frame, wondering why it was slaughtered; maybe a deed it did wasn't quite rightly proffered? if it had to die, let us have learned not to spurn a vow long ago sworn.
not many hours later the clouds are transformed, wisping away while revealing stars to help the moon shed light on a nightly cover. darkness may deceive the casual observer, but look a little deeper and find nature's beauty in a muffled whisper.
i purposely write this imagery laced with backflashes and forward slashes because His is a rope i can't seem to let go or ever need any less; every time life rudely awakens in screams of stress, i pull tightly and the twine survives every duress. just as that is the fuel of my soul and the mould of the heart, there some things so innate that a clam's shells need never part to unseal the pearl- a love by infinity trade marked.

-in the name of Allah-


I know that sometimes wherever one goes, there are always trailing wisps of yesterday to follow, and if they don't happen to be in actuality, then they would be ideally. But enough of ideal and actual, terms I've pondered much over already; there need be no bleeding whence there is surgery.

So what is the current state of affairs? Summer session starts next Mon. iA, and here I go fullsteam toward being a little closer to slightly-self-sufficient (its assumed that Allah is the best of providers, so whatever I can 'attain' for myself, it is only that He makes it easy for me and enables all avenues pertaining to ambition). Ah, its almost time for Jumu'ah. I should be heading out soon iA.


a Toast for 2, 1 Past, 1 Maybe new

so what drives a mountain lion to seek the highest peek? is it his prey he chases, or is it worship, in ways of which we can only dream? maybe the earth below was just enough in yielding fruit, to entice the prey who'd become not long thereafter nourishment to boot. perhaps he knows there's little oxygen to sustain him on those treacherous slopes, but why would he continue, if he knows that death chases all such similar blokes? viewing ascension as a metaphor, and his climb an outlet of earnest truth to find, does there remain for him another door, whence lay another path once his soul decides? it very well may be that it is not for him to decide, but simply ascertain, the road in his eyes made clear, distinct between both loss and gain. so he is to choose, from a spring of reasons seeming to others obtuse, but if he sees the twinkle of a fire's burning on a mountain summit, why should he like others find thirst in an oasis of drink, where to rise is endure and despair is to plummet? questions aside, the lion's fate is written, whether he dies in a wimper or a roar, its all a given. what solely remains is to choose the path either of cowards, or of strain. in the path of struggle, beasts are prey to insanity, while stoics embody those who've found their peace, in the yet-unseen reality.

-in the name of Allah-


summer is slow. and hot. i think my brain functions differently under higher temps than cooler. anyways, i think some things become a part of one's self so intrinsically its imagined that the actual, true self is what you see. no, this is isn't lamenting anymore, simply reflection.

patterns and phases mark the dawn of yesterday in shadows traceless. if every rendezevous was a bridge, then how is it crossed? certain qualities crop up and again remind me in some places i remain lost. if i've learned and accepted from past lessons and directives, then from where does the volcano of habit erupt to bring forth new life, when the old is so stubbornly erected? as a side note, i notice the unrefined and vulgar of essence are repulsive, even if the message conveyed was intended to comfort and solace. and so, if demons once vanquished ever dared to raise again their faces, i'd pass the plate on to someone more desirous of a soul i deemed abrasive. still fate may play its tricks and traps, when we think doors to chance are shut- poof opens the latch and so stunned, we react. i feel former chains releasing my being away from memory's storied enclave, to a place a little safer, at least until the soul is saved. surely i won't deny phantoms a drink of water or even a dinner's meal, but when comes time of rest and repose, all shall retire to destiny's originally scheduled reel.

-in the name of Allah-


for the first time in recent memory, i find myself posting twice on the same day. *shrug* there's a first time for everything. i found out today that fate isn't escapeable, it can't be hoodwinked, it has no roundabout way- its simply to the point.

so on this listless saturday afternoon, what thoughts are there to describe? what potions to release from the mind and soul to make the ink of expression? whatever it is, it's been a long time coming



Back to the Future


its true that often do we expect, but rarely do we realize any fruit. so what use are those times when simpler, subtler pleasures sufficed to bring one at ease and fall easily asleep at night? the answer to this lies in the annals of wisdom's labyrinth, a path whose end is only found when truth and the self are in sync. the nafs had bubbled and boiled, almost overtaken the stove and killed the chef who toiled over its care; now the time arrives when recipies proven contain and define the very dish that left so many lost in confusion. my own wants are to be slaves to truth, slaves for One, slaves for whom there is no underground railroad to hell, slaves whose only recourse is in whats written when this life is done. i will love again if its my destiny, but never again can i let blind me. for in those days, i foolishly assumed that the soul without action could be enough to build for me my carriage in this traveller's life, so unaware that folly would consume my time and waste it away, robbing me of all its insight. so if experience had any fruit, it'd be an onion; though bringing tears, it helps the vision.


that sucked. next time, i wait until i actually feel like writing t_t

-in the name of Allah-


taking the advice of a friend, i have turned a new page in the book of life. may Allah allow me to learn from what i've known and make the years ahead and the life to come easy for me, and for all my fellow believers, ameen.

-in the name of Allah-


so i'm taking each day as it comes, expecting no more of it than what came the day before but what i can and do make of it right then and there. i learned of a piece of news both cheerful and sad: one i'd known was going further along the road to secure her future and solidify her present. of course, i will pray for her happiness and that of her husband's too (someone has to tell him what person he's found- might very well be the most fortunate person alive). in any case, my life shall progress bi'ithniAllah in a more positive direction. where once i was averse to the masjid, i enjoin myself without hesitation. the academia is only as hard as i make it, which means it can be pretty easy. and also, as someone once advised me, the poetry will go on, iA



seasons of conclusion

no more late night drives down the long roads of I-29, no more drops of saltiness to nurture seeds of bittersweet redress. no more toiling conversations in this modern age of one dimension, no more seeking of how misfortune might become the fate of intervention. i've wandered and i've travelled, looking for something more than just haphazard. i found little consistency in anything besides what lies in me, so it only makes sense to be whole instead of partial to parts where one is unaware of his neighbor's goal. so now as one and one accepted, i realize how former faults are to be soon perfected. thoughts and minds alike do find a prison and a palace as threads intertwined- though one seems to be the other, i'll wait to be free and know true happiness in time.

-in the name of Allah-


communique attempt numero uno yields: exit

communique attempt numero deux yields: exit


ah, but fate is written

-in the name of Allah-


for the first time in ages a heart beat likened to that of a train, moment one a glance through the messages on a phone and moment two a glance at a blogger's page.

how can i summarize in finite ryhmes a rythm that evoked both clouds and sunshine? however impossible the words will be written, for theres no other place to open the chest and unload the burden.

for a few hours early this sunday morning, i felt the unease of uncertainty slip away and surety a little closer approaching. it was a sign of fate for me to see a phantom arriving once more on stage, hardly material but through a handful of syllables, it swept the wonder away. but of course, i can understand, more than any other, how the realm we cannot see is sometimes a storm we can only weather. in those inclemencies lay our trials, even of love or hate or apathy or sanity's denial. these prior few lines preclude in stunning coincidence, how fates unknown become clear through impartial providence. some while later in the day i'd read again inevitable words, though to be expected but never fully concorded or accepted. a more recent play, more recent composition, held my hand through a dream and its dissolution. as fables go, the one who lives as 'should' would say, often comes another chapter to know.


i've let loose enough floods, its time to hold the dam; rather save the town than drown in what i am. take my words as tokens of consolation, maybe if ever you hurt again there's relief in those thoughts only waiting. if i had to be your imagination's jester theres no way i mind the idiot box- for if i could make you laugh instead of cry, it might all be better.


ma'asalaam



[side note- who knows how many of these farewell-imitations i write, but i figure each and every one is healthy lol]

-in the name of Allah-



As i ponder now what reply to write i realize there's no need, for we've both attained the truth even if the price seemed too steep. there's a link, to be sure, now etched in stones of memory; where normally weather would erode those carvings, no fate could remove what remains of you in me. there's plenty inside of me wishing to be free, to taste the skies and finally know a dream in this reality, but- such is the fate we've been given, like it or not, its blessing enough to have had our paths once woven. if there's a key to my heart i've parted from its keeper, though only for a time so each might grow however slowly from wisdom's nectar. no ryhme is just right to explain what i felt when i read those lines, but i'd rather blow against an open wind and let nature take its course, than assassinate inner phrases hewn while asleep and awake.

HasbiAllahu wa ni'mal Wakeel

-in the name of Allah-


The words you wrote were precisely the words I felt, an echo resounding of the hands we've each been dealt. You take your path and I take mine, yet I feel this pain is lovely and departure now is only a means to arrival in time. If words were words when still unspoken or unheard, then bitterly sweet would exactly be the phrase to describe why one accepts the dosage of He who fate decides. If you knew my state as it stands, you'd see a man still in quicksand but holding tightly to a few threads he learned back when his vision wasn't running from him nightly. Still, I reverberate with "ameen", for you know my story much better than I previously gleaned.


My words are folly, like this attempt at writing where the hook's in the water but the fish aren't biting. You should see all the times I forumlated compositions in my mind with unequivocal eloquence only to see them fade into forgottenness, but alas this is the road I take and the role I held in having made at least one playground safe, if only for a time- though now its a danger to dream, if you open up the book again, it may come apart from the seams. I owe you at least what you did for me, though I've faults too numerous to list; I repay honesty with its twin in imagery.


I'll write soon, once, inshAllah.

-in the name of Allah-


the comprehensive update


so among the notable events of the past few days, i went to DE to visit my bro's family and meet my littlest nephew Abdullah; the question is posed: when are babies not cute? seems to be impossible in my limited experience; alhamdulillah i havent had the chance to bear witness to such a thing (lol). as it should be. on another note, the second day of spring break proves as minutely fruitful as the last. as it can be expected i guess. lately, though, poetic thoughts have begun a come back, challenging my contemporary thinking processes: is expression unexpressed worthy of stagnating in the mind and not seeing light of day? i think it'll see.


(composing slowly, coming soon)

-in the name of Allah-


Alhamdulillah, it seems my physical health is back to normal with nothing at a loss. But, to get straight to the point, answers to someone's questions:


1) yes, that was me
2) sorry for not picking up the celly, was somewhat pensive and didnt hear it ring/vibrate
3) at times i drive along those areas for some reason or other, but moreso perhaps because i view it as a place i once knew


i doubt two missed (private) phone calls ever could've been at a better time. will probably update more comprehensively soon though.

-in the name of Allah-


May Allah grant me relief from my affliction, ameen.



Tis the season to be sick

-in the name of Allah-

(may Allah grant my bro relief from his affliction, ameen)

Life is an exhausting journey, simply for the fact we may never know where it takes us. nonetheless, being the prone-to-sentimentality person that i am, i think a fitting good bye poem is in order..


seems like just yesterday i opened the vase of life only to find that it wasnt really full of roses and pansies like i'd once fancied, but rather its full to the brim with silk-cut contraptions whose appearance doesnt fade with time but whose liking can only grow more haphazard. you i knew once for a moment of life's trifles, but what a moment it was: one of my first glimpses into the beauty of humanity and the ever-present unbridled paradoxes it never ceases to let go of slowly. i have no regrets because i cannot take back the past so ill take joy in knowing thats its better to love and lost than never loved at all, though how often do so many decry and defame the very name known as love. who cares what one wishes to call it, its a cherished moment ill remember forever, as long as fate gives me breath tenuously tethered to the sacs of my lungs. new words and new impressions fail me as they usually do, i'd abandoned poetics to find me again and it seems i've once again reached truth. admittedly its hard to accept, but accept i will to let life take its course and take its thrill. reading over these words i sound ridiculously contrived, as if i couldnt compose a line to save a mere thousand invalid lives, much less my own thats struggling to find a voice of expression and being and action that follows its footsteps with doggedly determined air.
frivilous words, i mean to say through it all i will forever in some harbored part of the heart, care and never cease to do so as long as i'm human, though im prone to eccentricity and isolationist tendencies that provoke life-changing thought reminiscent of those locked in insanity. move on and let the threads of my words travel through the still air between us and perchance bring you comfort in times to come without recollecting despair. if the truth will be as truth once was, we'll meet again in dreams of gardens with visions watered.



eh, there it is. first poetic in ages. hmm. its difficult bringing myself to come back to the places and people i once frequented so well, but i will try. inshAllah.

if i may take a moment, why not thank you, i wonder who ever comes to read this anymore. lol, doesnt matter in the end....one day, one day..


ma'asalaam

-in the name of Allah-


for the first time in my blogging history, the last two posts i made have been saved as drafts and left unpublished. why? who knows for sure, but i hypothesize that they're only fragments of recorded change, polaroids that have their place in history and personal development. how far this development goes, only time and the help of Allah will show, but here's to knowing a brighter day.


as for this blog, its purpose, why i write, it doesn't really matter, even if no one reads. expresses thoughts is like freeing a potted plant, giving it roots it most dearly needs. so i can still ryhme in fractured, apparently abject lines, but who's counting the reasons or dotting the i's? where i am is only here, where i've always been- its just taking a little longer than expected or ever imagined to find my way back around this circle to the same point i began >>> islam. without faith no purpose, without purpose, no life, so dont live without faith or you're begging to live in strife


take care, readers of this blog..


ma'asalaam

-in the name of Allah-



in the end and in the beginning ill always be what i am: just me. reading your words, my stomach churns and i know one of those fateful decisions i've finally made, but it wont be without loss, it wont be without pain. i dont know if its to be damned or not, but im always one of feeling, thinking or analyzing or looking past superficial meanings. i see what could be your pain because of me, but only if you knew the pain and abyss inside of me i struggle every day to overcome and rise above, you might not hate me so much or feel so down. i cant and wont be so foolishly arrogant to think the words you write are only as a result of what i do or say, but i do know that whenever i read what you write my heart speaks volumes to me, showing me its true color despite what seasons or seas may cause time to pass between us without even a sound either of us hearing. one of the things in my last lines was a lie: forgetting isnt possible for me, its not who i am, its not what i do, when i care and l*** one dearly its as if the stars shone brightly only a moments notice but enough to make the hopeful-but-hopeless casual observer remember and know the truth of those times forever. i may not be able to ease your pain but remember the words you once wrote: this is a test from the One who creates and moulds, people and time and places, so all find in the end what is their goal.

[edit:removed last few words for lack of appropriateness]

-in the name of Allah-



it comes down to these very words for another to see just where it is exactly that i am, and where exactly i myself foresee. i wont predict tomorrow's weather or pretend to know yesterday's detail to the letter, but i know theres a point in life where either one forward goes or for ever remains backwards trotting. i cant and i wont live in a past that has me shackled to dreams more in the shape of prisons than reasons to rise higher against the odds with or without means. i will choose the unknown and its potential over the past and its misery mired in the existential. in these words, though they may seem opaque to some, i will make it clear: the goodbye is eternal and unremitting, so henceforth dont bother to write or speak to me any words or thoughts contained by your sanity. some things i must do for my self in the end, for my soul to survive and accept the truth once more, and so with these words and a closed chapter in my life's book do i annoint you a part of history, history by-gone and maybe forgotten but in the end, we live for tomorrow not for yesterday.

-in the name of Allah-



the future may shine bright and liven lives but my shades are drawn and it all seems so contrived. in my most stable of states ive tried giving meaning to the many hands of fate, only to see myself fall through the floor of ambition to a nowhere all too familiar, all too real in disguise. its been so long since ive even cared ive forgotten how to taste hope in the air and love in the water, once i had faith, but it seems ive effortlessly lost her. you may place blame on myself and my self alone, but if i cant resolve this life then death is truly an easier abode. most people say they arent ready to die, i say im not ready to live, ive believed to the farthest reaches but when those reaches only seem to go so far in reality's grip, i lost hold of the firmest things ive ever known. now ask me if i believe what i claimed ill reply i still do, but i havent a damn of a reason to care seeing how somethings are beyond me and beyond the face the mirror too. surely without doubt time will pass and my decree as its fated will be made clear, maybe some day ill find peace in a place without hunger without loss without fear.

-in the name of Allah-



Still alive, still breathing, finding and searching, a way to give life back its meaning. Been all over the place seeking to put on my self a face, a face with features of mine and not wrinkled by the passage of time. others dont relent in their pursuits or maybe they do but im too occupied in thought to see what they see through the troubling whirls of complexity that bog down the cogs of the world and leave reflections inside of me. some ideas still hover and soar amidst the scattered leaves and pines, perhaps one day to finally find their place in the ground to become firm and sound. the seeds of seedlings in the harshest of winters, buffeted by reality's frost it appears the mirage is enough at times to fool the wisest of minds. traversing i remain and for ever contemplative, now understanding that loss is a part of life, though beyond myself remains a vivid masterpiece yet unpainted yet ever shining bright.

-in the name of Allah-




So this is the place where I write. Something, anything, everything, is all yet to be determined. Officially, I believe I occupy the vacumn in life that often comes between the realm known as 'adulthood' and the realm known as 'adolescence'. However, I find dispute with both these terms. The world is so ruled by standards, so ruled by strength of comparison, it is impossible these days to weed out the truth from propaganda. Most of those in American society spend their time either mindlessly 'working' or attempting to convince others that they, themselves, are in fact 'worth' something. Others simply miss the radar, miss the blip on the screen, let 'life' pass them by. I think I occupy this latter group. Do I choose the mindless monotony and destroyed individualism on one hand? Or do I choose the rebel's path and bcome a misfit in a world of misfits trying to fit in? I could grant solace to those close to me by simply choosing to be like most others, but how can I when the conscience has not yet been settled? There is so much in life to be afflicted from, it's amazing people survive it any way. I have no idea how long I will choose to be seperate from my 'friends', from the masjid, from that whole area of my life that I cannot give meaning to any more. I am at a point where something must give meaning to me, must show its own accountability, rather than I, assuming the role of an understanding human being, should venture to account for them what they cannot for themselves. Yet still, some close to me will say that it is I who am evading accountability, evading responsibility, choosing the 'easier' path of apathy and nothing in the face of degrees, jobs, goals. To them, I reply should I or must I or can I assimilate to the mould of the masses and all the while remain true to my self? How do I appease the ones close to me, yet still remain loyal to the humanity that so struggles inside me? It is the fate of having to choose between two steep paths, both difficult, both having sacrifice involved, but which to take, and be not lost in its midst?



These questions pervade my otherwise innocuous days..

-in the name of Allah-




Dreamed 1.10.06



out of ethereal clay did i fashion you in my dreams, bit by bit, piece by piece, you gave meaning to the realm unseen. now, as ironic fate grips me at last, it may be the only time i've ever seen you. profundity and purpose escape these infrequent writings of mine, words of whom are scribbled reincarnations of memory. neither of us knows the path that lies ahead, but in the untrod is a hope unseen and a prayer unsaid- so it is that we trod our futures, unhindered by grainy wisps of yesteryear. think not of forgetting, though impossible- i'd never imagine it. we could gripe against life and that 'perfect' train now thought derailed, but don't forget that we are still alive with an eternity yet to be sailed.

-in the name of Allah-



Ok, so I can retrieve the wisdom of all the past ages, but if action doesn't follow the mind but instead runs aimlessly after the heart, can it be said that the desire for truth and justice is futile, with fatalism the new status quo?

-in the name of Allah-



Hmm, so a new year of the Georgian calendar dawns and it seems few things in life ever truly find a way into uncharted territory, that is to say, most paths in life are often the past re-disguised as something different. Crossroads in some ways. I've come to the conclusion if something cannot be loved, it will be hated. There is no room for ambiguity when fate has something decided, and to do otherwise (that is, to do other than hate) would make impossible the continuation of whatever it is that must be done without having the object of emotion becoming a draw back and liability, a fallacy in this world of reality's permanence. Nonetheless, I remain persistent in apathy, though to be sure, I am learning more of life's secrets regarding familial constancy. Some times we need to overlook the insignificant and embrace our parents, for as an advisor once told me: "the greatest error of our generation and era, is that society believes it does not need the old and aged" - (paraphrased). No more resignation to retirement homes, no more ignoring the nags of age-old wisdom, no more drowning out the sounds that came from bodies overworked to feed, clothe, and lead me through life up to and beyond the very point of this writing. To overlook parent involvement in life, though easy to do when distance is created, is like looking at a clock and not realizing it tells time- looking at parents with a sane and functional mind, its impossible to not see a bond beyond the ordinary, beyond the talk of our age.