Chal Diye, Why Today?

Track: Chal Diye

You slide down, silently. Why today? It's been a while since you and I met. Today you refuse to abate. In your silent journey refuse to dissipate. Her voice croons to a pain that was sleeping inside of you? Want, reason, comprehension; not to be found in your wake. Lying here silently allowing thoughts to flit on by... they are far too many to stop and collect into some semblance. The thud that resounds inside is pseudo frustrated. I had been successful in not letting this feeling surface fairly well until now. Alas, today it has been victorious...

Today I miss you, Amma. I pray ardently for your return home safe, insha'Allah. In this silent misery I have remembered my words again, to which I have not paid much heed off late. Having typed them down I feel a tiny bit of relief. I still hear her voice resound around... A peace, not of defeat, I silently breathe on and in it's search move off to pray and seek.

As Good As Gone?

The Weepies - Same Changes


Today I am sad over something I never had. I hate you PMS, go away because you don't even let me pray and you always lead me astray. I really don't like you. It's always lonely here with you. I don't want the company of your tears. I want peace back in my heart. These last few weeks have been beautiful and I want that peace back please. Please...

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!

Human I am, undeniably!

My many imperfections, some obvious, some buried skin deep... 
My many reservations, some secrets, some hard to keep silenced when I speak... 
My many stifled hankerings, in actions slip out sometimes, but otherwise successfully quietened... 
My major grievances pacified, as Mr. Demon harkens on only to be resolutely abandoned... 
Whilst in my imperfections I find peace of knowing, that only human I am, undeniably!

An Ending, A Beginning, Or An Interim?

To connect the dots, sat down did she

Lost in mid air; her strokes incomplete

Where to from here, knew not did she

Albeit with an unimaginable stock of resolve

Moved on, trepidatiously

Such is life and Allah swt always Knows Best.

She Got Left Behind?

When did it happen
This; that she got left behind,
The race for some time now
had already started,
And she had most certainly
Never gotten out of the line...

Alas...

Destiny had it's own plans;
Recorded on its tablet of time
She was meant to be here
Weathering storms or whatever
Life was life; morose not for long
Being thankful was the real test of time.

Overwhelmed?

Another wave we must ride

Paddle on to get by

Whatever ripples or gusts galore

Patiently override them

We must; you, just as must I

Many glories come and gone

Singing merrily to their songs

Faces shining with their smiles

Pictures telling of all hues turned into mires

Hurdles girdled into puddles swished

Fancy mapping of things misunderstood

Lacy trimmings to all hideous pies

Making all things distasteful

To position themselves until: Ready - Aim - Fire!

Hit asunder thus, all calm; gone

A memory simply remaining agong

Of bliss smuggled away from them

And to a wayfarer thoughtlessly sold

Thence off on a journey, spent are we

Listlessly surfacing jarring waves

Relentlessly remembering

All our stories that got buried untold...

An Elusive Escape

Far away from your normal; this is where the mind wishes to go to. Free from the craziness that refuses to stop spurting out at you in mad bursts which make little sense - if at all. Mundane every days that are infused with moments demanding outrageous amounts of patience, creep out from every nook and cranny, which the naked eye cannot even begin to fathom... when you least expect it - BAM!

You breathe in...
You breathe out...

You egg yourself on, to not bend over, not react, but to go on, staggering yet standing tall - as tall as tall can in such circumstances let you get away with. Where does one turn to in order to soak up on a reserve of energy and patience that at times like such seems alarmingly dwindling? Turn one's heart back up to their Maker Sublime and beg for rations that can help cope with such obtuse requirements, for otherwise functioning human aid seems like its knees are diligently being knocked at. So much so, that it could cave thus, any moment now - time is ticking on by in her head, like a set of dynamites waiting to combust at the harkening of just one defining click.

To smithereens all shall come to rest.

The Seemingly Impenetrable Door

The lock on the door was tricky. Seemed like it budged only to reveal that it was actually jammed. Innately faulty or an engineering defect? One would wonder but would fail to arrive at an acceptable mortally conjured verdict. Sometimes this doorway allowed a tiny peak of light from the other side, viewed for long enough to get one to pine for what it could get a glimpse of, but before the eyes and heart could have a fill of it - it was jarred back tight into its mysterious but age accustomed grooves of familiarity ensuring that the latch was back in place rendering all passage through - surely impossible!

All is as it should be? Perhaps only time can tell. But how impossible could a walk through a door be? How solid or impenetrable could a lock be? Why was this step beyond the a-fore crossed, seeming to become more and more of a tedium? On counting, realisation weighed heavy and divulged thus; the number of diligent attempts to walk past the threshold were on a statistically recorded high, but the breaths which enabled them forward, were definitely not just low in power but also noticeably limited.

One day, to see the other side of the door remained a yearning which silently hoped to be fulfilled in its one blessed lifetime...

InshaAllah, Ameen.

Exist you do in a dream...

Many moons ago, in a dream she saw you,
Where you are, to this day she cannot tell...
Many moons ago, it all felt so real,
What happened, she begs, pray do tell...

Many moons ago, her heart had skipped a beat,
How you managed that, she still can not tell...
Many moons ago, it had all felt so real,
Perchance in a dream only, could you on her cast such a spell...

Incomplete?

She was fine

Just a little worn out from time

What existed of her

was not what custom as want worthy defined

But she was fine

existing as she did - less or more -

in her cavity she let herself remain confined

For the lack of lushness

and perfection preached as divine

she tried not to pine for it,

And in a hope more Perpetual

she tried to for herself a peace

in not having all that 
still some how resolve to find.

Release Yourselves

adele set fire to the rain mp3 | lyrics

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As we live it, you and I
We have not much left to blame
After all the pages turned
over and over
Pictures burned and removed
from their seamless covers
Pointless repeats you have become
The pain that came with you
The pain that left with you
Redundant musings;
Petrified, Molly Coddled, Lain to sleep
Reality sublime forever clear
in its moment leaves you awake
To truth not before seen
Dreams that were only dreams
Stark facts that you sit here ruffling through your brain
Nothing but an empty terrain; bare
Let yourself let them go
May it all sink in and finally rest
never to surface again...

Unlabelled Diagnosis

Uncertainty...

No clarity...
I wonder what people see...

A mystery?
Disparity?
This confusion's testing 

To begin with, questionable sanity.

Why, The Age Old, Why...

So you cry? Or do you choose to live the lies? Somewhere there are those who die. Somewhere there are those who live, but still won't. Where was it that you left her? Was it you who swept her, off her feet to places unknown? Was it you who forgot? Or, was it she who forgot? Where were you when the time came to live the promises? Was it you who broke them, or was it time who was the blamed mistress? Was it circumstance that came in the way, or was it weakness; perhaps fear the evil seamstress? Why was she not the one, while ''she'' was? Why were you not the one, when there was no one else? Why was loneliness so astute when patience was perched at a precipice? Why were answers sought, for questions already answered? Why did time deem it necessary to rewind vacant musings that held no good with in them? With in the why's lay another fold to the mysteries.

Disjointed

Frail Ms. Heart
React doth nay
Voices that smart as they blare on their ways
Caring not
For thine timidness, such heartless of hearts!

Brace ye self
And pray to last
For when they're done with their firing remarks
Tired Alas!
Survive you must until then...

Unimportant Fool

One feels stifled and wonders untiringly so, over the ache that comes from not knowing where to belong; who to belong to. There remains only One constant through all the dries, through all the cries, there remains only One constant one can turn to and cry their angst to. There seems to be no place to call home, there seems to be no person who knows you. In fact, they seem to work like the mechanics of a clock, where in some parts work in desperate compliance while the single or more who dare to defy work under constant emotional abuse to end up in a heaped corner comprised of a wretched mix of perpetual defiance and miserable compliance for the sake of survival. Where does one go when there is a lack of means to get to anywhere but here? What does one do when there is only a lack of possibilities doable that exist? Who does one turn to when there is not a single soul that hears it without derision or insult instead of with patience or even a morsel of respect that it aches to be accorded. How does one fit in a slot when while trying to do so there are constant pins pricking it, drills drilling it, hammers hammering it, and voices vacillating it? What ever cords one manages to nourish, the fatigue amassed from such intense repeats manages to derail and disappoint. Useless, Worthless, Unimportant; one is left to feel. Finding that place and people to belong to exists as a wasted dream. Finding peace in a life away from this world's is all that seems important; is all that one aches for in one's now, inshaAllah...
Ameen!

Rolling In The Deep

Adele: Rolling in the deep


Exactly how it feels... for the person I knew when I knew you.
But... the person that now exists because of you, I fail to understand.
The memory of her comes alive when it knows the words to this song.
The body of her quietens it.
The soul of her, prays for you and her... and her.

~ FiamaanAllah

The Reel Rewound Itself

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her feelings uncoiled
And in a him her hopes
Aspired to live through

Her hopes were boiled
Life churned her feelings aside
And him she lost
Giving priority to her religious aspirations

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her feelings still coy
A friend found his way through
Giving her hope anew

Her aspirations changed
He played with her games
In hopes unfulfilled she remained
To greener pastures he trod off to leaving her shamed

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her emotions uncoiled
To his tune of reassurance
That ignited hope in her aspirations again

He spun his wonderful tales
Once enraptured was she
Truth he then confessed
And on a whole new level broke her entirety

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

And to time there on thus
No matter what tune life thrust
She heard not their songs
Her feelings froze and no one would she trust

They came for themselves
And they left her without
She learned from them though
Her hopes remained in a picture unframed

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Impostors

Impostors we are, gliding past shadows our own, convincing ourselves of being someone else. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder; conflicting thoughts incessantly manifest from this golden adage. In reality we judge ourselves more times than another could, while those of us that really need to, remain cast inside the immunity of our denial. Simple beings exist in a minority, at least from being obvious they do actively refrain. Complexity is the new it. It draws attention, it demands to make a stand, it dares to contradict. In the differences of opinion do we exist as humans, while in arguing the differences we highlight our flaws. Complacence in all can only be aspired for; beauty, peace, and all that exists between right or wrong.

© Hayaah

A Breakaway?

BREAKAWAY Lyrics - KELLY CLARKSON

When they're twenty, they dream of dreams, they make plans. They take steps towards them, failing at some, nearing some, achieving some. Yet some, remain struggling and hoping on for some ten odd years or so, standing in a place feeling oh so familiar. Another starting point? Wasn't this where we'd been at when we began dreaming of dreams? Why was it that we seemed to have missed the train when we were at the very same station alongside others who made it? Would my present ails be acceptable had they come 10 years after having been coined with a Mrs before my name? Would they have been more acceptable if they had come after having birthed a few little ones? Would my lack of success at something, anything really, been more acceptable had I an excuse of having put my family's needs before mine? But what if I did? What if I did put my family's wishes before mine? What if I had a lack of support, while not even realizing how short on time I was, in order to set off and achieve my dreams? What if my falls were fewer than my medals? What if my medals were made of love that survived the test of time? What if my tears had been more happy than distraught? What if my emptiness had been full? My guess is, that I would be surmising over something that nevertheless remained not. That I would still be questioning what hadn't been, over looking all that had been. I would still be human and wanting, wishing and jaunting over untapped dreams. I would be unappeased, with most things displeased, pining for anything-everything that sadly remained unfulfilled or shot. Now I am thirty. I think I still dream of dreams, but the difference is that I work very hard at stifling their existence instead of embracing them. I fear that if I accept that I have dreams still, I will lay myself open to pain from them remaining just that, dreams not actualized. I have myself pretty much convinced that I am to be different; that I am to be of those who will not reach where they wish to reach, but remain lost amongst masses of normalcy. That I will remain struggling to find footing, in the while trying to convince those who mean something to me, that I am worthy. And while on this battle amidst my people and people otherwise, I struggle to unmask myself to the self. Unconsciously perhaps, I shall keep dreaming of breaking away from all that has become me in order to dream of dreams and make at least one come true, in a tomorrow that may be exists. A breakaway?