My Friend,

I’m encountered by the walking path of a most peculiar feeling. It’s a close relative of ambivalence, and it has its mystic genes there as well. It perplexes me how the routine of your happiness now is such a loss compared to the thousand possible adventures that would have been gone on, had you chosen a different road.

Here’s to wordless presence of loving mates; to hand in hand and pat on arm; to a soundless kiss on sound asleep; to you.

I’m sad. I’m sad for the amount of beauty in this world that is lost to the dragging, unceasing dullness of life. I’m sad for all the energy that is spent on trying to live, not living. I’m sad that you, of all people, are that typical now! Such a waste.

You are beautiful. Your voice is .. I mean .. I have never heard anything that’s even close to its music. The way your shy red, is by far, a revelation. How could you choose to go typical? How could you do this to my yearning for all that breathes?

How awful are my words. How unjust are my expressions. How small are my uttering before its desire of meaning!

A white rose with petals are supposed to stay where life can exude its magic through it. It’s supposed to help those who can’t exhale their worries to do. It’s supposed to make people smile.

It’s not supposed to be picked up. Plucked away. It’s not even supposed to be touched. Maybe caressed by extra gentle fingers, but never taken away. And sure as sun, it’s not supposed to disappear.

Humph ..

I can’t write, and it feels like I can’t breathe. I need to go back to reading, I really really do. It might grant me some solace, or company. It might light my heart.

But I’m sure that the agony of never seeing you again, is incurable now. You even took away my will to write, the one thing that was close to defining who I am, one day.

Alhamdulilah, begadd.

P.S. do not try to make sense out of this post, there’s none. And it’s freaking fictional.

Right and Wrong

I’ve been thinking about this; people always know right from wrong. When I say always, I mean it.

I don’t recall a moment in my life at which I really didn’t know whether what I did was right or wrong. I knew at some level.

But then again, what are mistakes? well, when it comes to experience in life, mistakes are imperative.

What I’m talking about is rather concerning morals. It’s a question of good and bad, of being good or bad.

Some think they have to be bad, so they know they’re bad. Some feel it and ignore it, to later regret it.

But we always know ..

don’t we?

Fatir

It resonates, an echo from the past in a mosque so white in a street that screams home. The Originator, it translates, and the man recites in my ears on sleep deprived mornings, making them glow, lighting my heart, my way, and my life.

I surely don’t have anything to write about these days. My confusion is so voiceless and breathless. It’s stone. And those verses shatter this stone, into soft content, satisfaction and trust in Him.

He never really leaves you alone. Every time you think you’re not loved, remember Him. He loves you.

He loves you.

إِنَّ ٱلَّذِينَ يَتْلُونَ كِتَٰبَ ٱللَّهِ وَأَقَامُوا۟ ٱلصَّلَوٰةَ وَأَنفَقُوا۟ مِمَّا رَزَقْنَٰهُمْ سِرًّۭا وَعَلَانِيَةًۭ يَرْجُونَ تِجَٰرَةًۭ لَّن تَبُورَ

Verily, those who recite the Book of Allah (this Quran), and perform AsSalat (IqamatasSalat), and spend (in charity) out of what We have provided for them, secretly and openly, hope for a (sure) tradegain that will never perish.

لِيُوَفِّيَهُمْ أُجُورَهُمْ وَيَزِيدَهُم مِّن فَضْلِهِۦٓ ۚ إِنَّهُۥ غَفُورٌۭ شَكُورٌۭ

That He may pay them their wages in full, and give them (even) more, out of His Grace. Verily! He is OftForgiving, Most Ready to appreciate (good deeds and to recompense).

Fatir,

After Midnight

It’s after one. I’m bushed and my mind beats. The rant of me ..

I miss .. talking to people. It’s like I need to have a good conversation with someone, and I don’t want it to be in politics or about this country. Also not about work, because I’m too swollen. I don’t remember the last time someone told me that I’m a good listener, I really miss that.

Sometimes I fantasize about popping up in strangers’ lives, leave a mark that would bring a smile to their faces whenever it sheds itself in their thoughts, and then leave remembered that way.

–

Do you ever think that our names really represent us? I mean, it’s weird. Lately, I see someone’s picture without knowing their name, and when I know their name, it’s like .. dejavu, like I already knew it. Yeah, that’s a Zeyad, aha, and that’s a Lobna! And you, with the wits, the olive tone and the guarded eyes, yeah .. it’s so true ..

–

I’m tired from saying that I’m tired. That loop is universal, you know. I need to hear someone laugh. Actually, peoples’ laughs as well are so unique. Someone’s name, someone’s laughs and someone’s tears are someone.

–

Don’t be too bold, disappointment always comes with that. Also, it steals my heart beats.

–

Sometimes you just know that God is using you for the benefit of someone else, and you forget that the very fact that He’s using you is one of the truest blessings.

Alhamdulilah .. Alhamdulilah .. Alhamdulilah ..

Sigh

Alhamdulilah ..

Bombs

Memories and bombs share numerous features. Your life in certain emotional realms resemble a minefield; it’s a time when you have to exercise extra care while you’re spending your moments. It’s a very dangerous journey.

You unexpectedly land on a memory lodged in some devious corner, and boom: it explodes, and you’re strewn in pieces. You become a blur, a cloud of dust.

Funny thing is, you realize you didn’t really forget anything. You’d think you got over things, but the fact is, you never did. You take the blow – steady, breathless, your lips pursed in pain, holding back struggling screams. Something is turned off in you, and it’ll last for days, until the ruptures furl unto themselves again.

And you walk again down your memories one night, and boom.

Another memory.

With years, you’ll be surprised; because of all the off notes on that rhyme of agony, a smile in epilogue is the least expected, but oh well, it does come eventually.

Satisfaction seeps in that way ..

Alhamdulilah ..

Words ..

Forgive yourself. The balm that’s the palm of your hand; it’s real, Ibraheem, I have felt it. Cherish that. I know that giving up on those who believed in you more than you did once is guilt climaxed, but do know that you can still love them. It’s not the end, yet. It’s life.

It’s okay to miss a moment that everyone else enjoyed, it means your ones aren’t all around, yet. Wait. Patience. Do you not know of fate? do you not know of the horizons of its mercy? There will come a she whose wish come true, is her wish come you. Soon.

Being judged by you is different. It’s okay. The vagueness of you, swallows the anger in me. That moment, when you have shone on me, with that red hearted rose of mallow. That moment, my dear, was perfect.

You’re a drawer of smiles, and laughs. You’re entertainment. It’s vogue. Don’t be sad about it. They are comfortable around you. You’re safe, ibhog. You safe. You home.

Sometimes, life brings out the worst in people, but if you watch close enough, the worst in people is beautiful. You know why? because it’s the end of it. Once the worst is out, what’s left is their pure hearts, and their yearning to your embrace.

And sometimes, my love, life brings out the worst in you, and then it all wraps itself in you with a lesson learned in humility, and in wisdom. When guilt sheds itself around your deeds, when your conscience curls around your acts, that’s when you become great. Much of the good of this world is owed to the sins of its people, do know that.

Whether you’re close to Him or not, He’s always around protecting you.

Do know that too ..

—

I wish my words for you weren’t that broken. So instead, I’ll give you silence. I know you like it. I know you love the presence of me in your thoughts; an emblem of hope, a figment of a thousand dreams in one. A vision that’s all pauses .. I am.

For you ..

—

A message to you: one day, you’ll see that which I’ve always wanted (and needed) you to see. It seems hopeless now, as much as I wish for progress, somehow you dive in vanity. But I know, that the worst in people tows behind it the best in them. You’re reckless and neurotic, but I know, that deep down your heart, someone will light a candle one day. I just wish, then, that you’d remember my tears.

—

Imagine that we never knew the moon existed, and then we wake up to see it a perfect white. How will it feel? Now, imagine that each month, we forget it ever existed, and then the one night wake up to see it a perfect white, again?

Am I that usual for you now? Do I have to disappear, so that you’d miss me? So that you’d know my real worth? Am I already a crescent? or the shadows of your doubts finally had me? Whatever happens, I love you. You’re you, you know. You were never a choice. You were destiny, for my heart.

—

Complete love is that moment when the idea of them being away never even crosses your mind. In the details of your fabric, that idea for you is tantamount, in sense, to the sun rising from the west. If it takes place one day, then it’s the end of everything.

—

I count your hugs. I don’t know the figure, I just know that I count, and that each time I’m in your arms, I forget where I stopped, so I start all over again.

I’ll go find you now ..

On warmth, and me ..

وَٱضْرِبْ لَهُم مَّثَلَ ٱلْحَيَوٰةِ ٱلدُّنْيَا كَمَآءٍ أَنزَلْنَٰهُ مِنَ ٱلسَّمَآءِ فَٱخْتَلَطَ بِهِۦ نَبَاتُ ٱلْأَرْضِ فَأَصْبَحَ هَشِيمًۭا تَذْرُوهُ ٱلرِّيَٰحُ ۗ وَكَانَ ٱللَّهُ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَىْءٍۢ مُّقْتَدِرًا

And put forward to them the example of the life of this world, it is like the water (rain) which We send down from the sky, and the vegetation of the earth mingles with it, and becomes fresh and green. But (later) it becomes dry and broken pieces, which the winds scatter. And Allah is Able to do everything.

When I skip this Sura on a Friday, the week that follows it becomes different. My level of faith plummets in a weird way, and my vanity escapes the confines of my sane self. So whether I like it or not, this Sura is one of the holy protectors who solider against the cruelty of this life, and the sordid desires of those who live it. May God grant me the will to always have it wrapped around my soul. Amen.

—

The weather is somewhat warmer today. Yesterday at work I told a friend that I’ll feel better when it’s warm. I don’t like Winter, especially when it’s this cold, subhan allah, I just get depressed. Every morning I wake up and look at the window; if I find sun, I feel good, if I don’t, my day starts awfully. I love light and warmth, I love how refreshed they render me. Like I move more freely, or something.

I’m accompanied by a devious flu, and I smell like meds. Last night I told my sister that I can’t believe my medication is affecting the scent of my own skin! She took my hand and told me that the scent is only in my nostrils, coming from inside. Which is very funny, you know, like when you hear the sound of your own thoughts while no one could; that’s loneliness defined by scents not savored, and sounds unheard.

I work all the time. In weekends, in the morning and at night. I don’t go to work; it’s like I work, and go to home every day. It’s making me feel better sometimes, and that’s not a good thing, I know. I’m called a workaholic. When I’m not working, I’m not okay, or stable. Too much spare time harms me in the strangest of ways. Half of my vacation balance lived with me into 2012.

Busy is good. Busy is a practical realm, where people live to finish things, instead of being suffocated by unfinished thoughts.

I don’t know what else to write about, but I miss writing and reading.

I miss many people also. Many people I’m not supposed to miss.

Memories .. I wasn’t supposed to come across, right now, at all ..

—

وَرَبَطْنَا عَلَىٰ قُلُوبِهِمْ إِذْ قَامُوا۟ فَقَالُوا۟ رَبُّنَا رَبُّ ٱلسَّمَٰوَٰتِ وَٱلْأَرْضِ لَن نَّدْعُوَا۟ مِن دُونِهِۦٓ إِلَٰهًۭا ۖ لَّقَدْ قُلْنَآ إِذًۭا شَطَطًا

And We made their hearts firm and strong (with the light of Faith in Allah and bestowed upon them patience to bear the separation of their kith and kin and dwellings, etc.) when they stood up and said: “Our Lord is the Lord of the heavens and the earth, never shall we call upon any ilah (god) other than Him; if we did, we should indeed have uttered an enormity in disbelief.

May He protect your hearts, my friends, and mine.

Amen,

The Art of Silence

I wrote a very angry post and decided to not post it.

In brief, what I want to say is, silence nowadays is a true challenge. A silent person ignores all people’s false judgments, and resorts to a calm corner to think before they act.

We miss this now; we have many actors, hundreds of them, but very few thinkers. Thinkers get judged for taking the time to think, and actors mess around and get called heroes.

Nations aren’t built this way.

I just want everyone to think about this: if a word you utter, or a rumor you spread, eventually contributed to the death of a human being (by forming a grudge that people couldn’t need less, by planting a lie, or by making a wrong impression, anything), then how can you live with yourself? You have to face the reality of what you’re doing, really, because it’s unbearable anymore. God will ask you about this, this is a fact; you WILL be asked about everything you utter or spread in these critical times.

So if you won’t add anything or if you can’t find the time to think properly, then kindly be silent. Believe me, it’s better.

Judging me won’t be useful either; because it’s not about me, at all.

Need prayers ..

Is it possible to keep one’s faith in tact when they’re angry at someone all the time? I mean, does Allah require from us the same level of Iman when He knows that we’re under so much pressure?

It’s like anger and depression affects the way I deal with God; my energy is sucked dry by those two monsters and when I want to be with Him, I just can’t. Like I’m too tired and out of ways. My patience is sucked so thin by the brawny arms of sadness, and then thumped ruthlessly by the thick feet of anger.

I read stories about Prophets with lives that are formed of hardships; yet, they still managed to follow through, to deliver their message completely. They managed to worship God greatly. But, somehow, I feel like they were on terms with the difficulties they went through, like they knew their purpose in life is so fulfilling in ways it made them sleep well. They didn’t need to change something for the hardship to go, they just focused on the message.

When I look at myself, however, I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I sometimes feel it’s not patience as much as it’s weakness and surrender; that I should change, or at least seek a refuge somewhere, just to be able to worship God better.

Even if that somewhere is away from my own home. It makes me so sad. I don’t know if it’s a glitch with my mind, of if I really am going through things that I’m not supposed to go through.

You know, sometimes life isn’t supposed to be this hard. Sometimes one’s supposed to just change it. Look at the following verses  from Surat Al-Ankaboot.

The Surat starts this way:

أَحَسِبَ ٱلنَّاسُ أَن يُتْرَكُوٓا۟ أَن يَقُولُوٓا۟ ءَامَنَّا وَهُمْ لَا يُفْتَنُونَ

Do people think that they will be left alone because they say: “We believe,” and will not be tested?

وَلَقَدْ فَتَنَّا ٱلَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِهِمْ ۖ فَلَيَعْلَمَنَّ ٱللَّهُ ٱلَّذِينَ صَدَقُوا۟ وَلَيَعْلَمَنَّ ٱلْكَٰذِبِينَ

And We indeed tested those who were before them. And Allah will certainly make (it) known (the truth of) those who are true, and will certainly make (it) known (the falsehood of) those who are liars, (although Allah knows all that before putting them to test).

And then, near the end, it tells believers:

يَٰعِبَادِىَ ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوٓا۟ إِنَّ أَرْضِى وَٰسِعَةٌۭ فَإِيَّٰىَ فَٱعْبُدُونِ

O My slaves who believe! Certainly, spacious is My earth. Therefore worship Me (Alone).”

See how great that book is?

So, dear readers, when do you decide that it’s not about patience, but rather about not accepting what irks you?

When does one decide that it’s time to just leave?

Guys, can we start a small book club?

Reblogged from ibhog:

Take it from me: love has all the lasting permanence of a rainbow – beautiful while it’s there, and just as likely to have disappeared by the time you blink. … The zebras are the first stop in the Roger Williams Zoo. Of all the animals in the Africa section, these have always been my favorite. I can give or take elephants; I never can find the cheetah – but the zebras captivate me. They would be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a black and white world. Jodi Picoult …

I’m trying the new ‘Reblog’ feature of wordpress. And, well, I love those quotes.