The mountains will shake.

For a long time, I have been questioning a lot about myself, particularly the purpose I am living in this world. Not intending to create my own religious views, but instead I keep searching for hints. All my life I have always wanted to become a better person but rarely in my life had I contemplated on whether what am I doing in the present will be going to worth it in the long run. It took me a long time to profoundly realize that everything in this world is simply temporary. People will leave you. Feelings will go. The time will disappear. Life will end.  It cannot be understood only just by reading or listening to wise words from religious scholars or inspiring  speakers but to truly feel that everything in this world embodies transient bliss, is something that can only be achieved by solitude. When you begin to embed the realization inside your head, some of your dreams and perspectives also begin to change. I am learning to be more consistent in holding on to my religious and life principles, and at the same time I am learning to be more kind without having concerns on expected exchanges of  any kind act.  I am becoming more interested to stay within my own company though there are times I would prefer the sounds of voices from my favourite people, but being solitary – the freedom is indescribable. I am still in the process of seeking for answers. But there is only one thing for sure at this moment; I will leave everything behind.

 

“Be in the world as if you were a stranger or a traveller along the path.” -Prophet Muhammad PBUH.

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A Thread

Call me a lover with fireworks in the eyes
But tonight I am writing about you
The words out of pure connection
Along the lines
Will we ever learn how to quit?
Goodbye to the daisies in the streets
But not to the dream fort of our life
The garden is growing a kingdom
Illuminated, breathing soft
Of bluebells welcoming your presence
That echoes mine under your wing
as we are each other’s home

Redress

In her own fears she looks through her shadows
I watch her from the horizon with flowers for algernon
in hands, pondering whether the lines are connecting
or they never were

At times like this dreams are safer than the voices
But sometimes it’s just her longing
with the side effect of pills
visualizing her fears, into reality

It’s kicking in, things can be seen
The sea is calling, he is calling
I wish I can do something
but where do I keep the voices?

Wiped Clean

In some unknown, is there love?
You pull the thread, when you are distant
Enough to mistake shadows as friends
And it still makes no difference

In some unknown, is there hope?
You sleep embracing, your own sweat
Enough to wait for another day to repeat
And it still makes no difference

In some unknown, is there courage?
You burn the cry, of your zipped mouth
Enough to run away from your own breath
And it still makes no difference

In some unknown, is there life?
You wish you are not dreaming the sea again
Enough to refrain yourself from drowning
And darling what’s the use of avoiding when it’s already too late?

Last Days

I have less than 5 weeks before I finish my foundation year.

All I want to say is I don’t think I will put myself in a state of missing it. Throughout the year I begin to fully comprehend the idea of being disconnected. The idea of being solitary. That it is best to be on your own, to become the most genuine form of you. And that sometimes one’s life is not all about the connection you made with people around you, but how you embrace self-discovery. Also I’ve found out that the energy I contributed for my academic work had slowly diminished by the means of the true purpose I’m responsible for. And to that end I’m back with the new, better and stronger one. I will not miss the days I imitated my vibe in order to position myself with the rest. I will not miss the days I found myself so blissful that I almost mistook it as a false alarm. I will not miss the days I neglected my dreams for awhile.

I will not miss this place.

All I want to say is I thank God for He is the best planner.

…_ _ _…

Cry not, because the next big thing will be a lot of small things.

But tell me about the itch. Tell me how you could no longer hold on. Tell me how the emotional weight you carry is unbearable, tense – a sense of defeat, swelling within the chest.

Where else you could hide? It’s the world against us. The looks of hundreds of pairs of eyes with great expectations on us. The looks that mirror the belief of failure is an act of sin.

It’s more than enough but is it truly more than enough?

Tell me about the people of your age. The people who worship grades and yet they deny – the people who urge for more digits for their pointer. Tell me how people, as they grow older, become more obsessed with digits and numbers.

Tell me about the loss – you lose you. Tell me how you forget to pick yourself up after a fall, how you maintain the face of a warrior but you’re crumbling on the inside – a strike of lone devastation. Tell me about the days you wanted to cry but you forgot how. The days that submerged you into a sea of desolation. You think it’s over, but it’s not.

So cry not, because the next big thing will be a lot of small things.