Monday, 12 September 2011

Not Poor, Not Hopeless, Not Dead

The Piano Guys

It gushes forth on repeat... this froth of loneliness... this marinated blah-ness that perhaps takes birth from an emptiness... an emptiness that is bred through a vicious cycle of not knowing who I am, as opposed to who I want to be, and think myself to already being. Music, movies, pictures; all in their own stead try to bring to me a peace, not very long lived albeit. Words; read or written too, do only so much. What remains at the end of it all is still a me, by myself, desperately holding on to chants that beseech The One God in Whose Existence I leave my sanity to mould as He so Deems right. Perhaps that time - my time - is yet to come, for today it definitely was not here; yet again. In the mystery of this riddle I bequeath myself, empty but not poor - miserable but not hopeless - tired but alas, not dead.

 ~ Alhumdulillahe Rabbul Al Ameen, Ar Rahman Ar Raheem, Malike Yaumid-deen, Iyya Kanaá Budu Wa Iyya Kana'astaeén, Ahdin Asiratul Mustaqeem, Siratul A'dheena Anumta Alayhim, Ghairil Ma'gh'dhube Alayhim, Walad-daálleen... 

- Ameen! Ameen! Ameen!

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