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Sunday 16 November 2014

Ramble

Compromise is unutterable , an ugly, heavy word, forming uncomfortably in the small print.

It was not my intention to write this here , to write this , to write.

Sometimes I wonder at the paradox of principle . The excellence in the grandiose , the simplicity in excellence . I demean the latter despite lacking the moral fibre to achieve it.

When I think of compromise , I think of betrayal and the bitterness of that gives way to humanity. A compromise rooted in betrayal rooted in compromise.

Life has always been full circle and never quite straight lines .

Are you feeding a hypocrisy ? Or are you trying to shirk your responsibilities ? An old friend told me to give back , I give aghast at the quality of that which I have to give.

Most days I think of the brevity of life.  My bones ache in loss , I trade in loss , I meet and greet in loss , I walk in loss.

She told me that ' every soul is continually tasting death'

I don't stop here. I don't stop at the edge of every unique reality to remind myself there is an optimum . A perfection in the handling of every moment.

We are so intertwined that it has become our detachment . Our pale faced denial.

Do you value love and progress and goodness more than vulnerability. Why is it so often a hidden pride masking all our wounds ?

Dear world, this is where I fell. Do not fall here too.

3 comments:

  1. It's so painful...yet there is a subtle beauty to be appreciated, a beauty that emanates from a soul which, though in turmoil, hovers on the blessed threshold of realization.
    You fell in this dunya but you are certainly not alone there. It doesn't mean that you won't stand up again here, stronger than before...that you won't stand up again in Jannah. <3

    ReplyDelete

  2. salam.

    i. i've spent more than a year now trying to find the right words to say or rather, write, but i can't. words fail me all the time. artful lines, however lovely, beguiled me into playing this tug o' war -like game, but will they ever be mine to have and hold as my own?

    (i don't know where to pick up from. where did we leave off?)

    ii. everything feels wrong and yet everything seems right. eyes are deceiving. you told me to never close my eyes; it won't make things disappear. but i'm getting too tired from trying to stay awake.

    (the ghosts of my past visit me sometimes. they ask me questions, but they never let me answer them.)

    iii. i don't ramble, but i tremble as i force this raging soul to stay still.

    (don't go, don't leave...silence is bliss. but what if it's the same silence that kills?)

    iv. i don't dare rambling through anywhere either. i'm afraid of stumbling, afraid of falling down the abyss of despair.

    (it's too tiring. falling is too tiring, as if crashing could seem any more appealing.)

    v. i miss you and i wonder if you miss me too.


    fi-amanillah,
    original anon

    p.s: delete this if you want to.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. walaikumusalam,

      i. I've swam in waters so filled with words that I'm choked , tearful eyes at the discrepancy between what is and what is said . I've gone with the seas and found myself washed up back on the same old shores.

      ( Did it ever matter , lets start at the beginning, middle and end , lets just start again )

      ii) I heard once the world is a dream , we spend out waking moments trying to make something of our realities , trying to extract something meaningful from the chaos. Rest your head and sleep old friend. I will watch as the world turns and endeavor to keep you safe for a time .

      (those who I love find me again , the smoke parts way and I think , I think that perhaps words are not enough)

      iii) One day we will drink from an eternal spring and our angers at the injustice will be quenched... the injustice will be quenched

      ( Silence is fertile ground , we plant the poison, we plant weeds that ruin us . Embrace silence like a companion skilled in listening , pour it out , pour it all out)

      iv. Perhaps we hit rock bottom only to make a home there. I imagine a prophet praying from the bottom of a well . The plans, the trail they bend and bend and twist into a story one day we will recognize but maybe not fully comprehend

      ( May you fall into the arms of the prayers that strangers have made on your behalf , rest, please rest and in the morning let us begin again )

      v. Life is hectic but somedays I say to myself 'swamps and love' and I smile a half smile at the significance of such innocent things. Can you miss a thing if it doesn't leave your mind ?

      Fiamanillah,
      *insert nickname the one about the leaf*

      p.s wouldn't dream of it
      p.p.s drop me a message

      Delete