Secret Sorrows..

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Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often at times we call a man cold when he is only sad


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Wise Wilde...

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He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.

Oscar Wilde
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A Lesson..

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They say the songs of the blind are sad because they show the listener things their eyes cannot see
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Too Light to Stay...

It is a choice that we make within the lifestyles we lead, to keep ourselves busy, absorbed and always haunted by the perpetual voices of what there is left to do. Therefore, it is only natural that to allow this deepening preoccupation to continue, in which we bury ourselves, we find that from time to time, we need a break, a refreshed view, ready to face it all once again.

The fact that it has become an obsessive necessity to submerge ourselves in a few days of peaceful rest away from our everyday norm, is an obvious sign that within the recesses of our quashed subconscious minds and souls, we are more aware of our original states in which we were made to walk this earth than we seem to accept.

It is time that accumulates, that weighs heavy upon our selves. It is within the time passed that we create our shield, our armour and our mask. And it is time that we leave behind. Her roped strands are gradually drawn away and all that is left is the dust carried by the winds.

Nested worries and rooted needs transform into states dealt with an ease and a natural flare. Emotions and ideas are no longer opposed but entwined in a union previously forgotten. A union that is the purest to be found.

And it is in nakedness that we return.

Unattached, unaware and floating newly born, it becomes easy to simply 'be'.

In lost forms we rise..

Within the traced lines
Upon my skin
I slowly lose the feeling of 'why'.

Remain blurred edges, of an existence before
Of the memories held close
And the fire within my blood,

Whilst a sculpted form drowns,
Only a ripple left in time
Draped in the mockery of lies.

And with each wavering stroke,
Crushed fingertips loosen their hold
Sinking in through their palms.

Grotesque and alone
A standing statment to remind
For those who start to forget..

A Transcript..

"Coincidences happen.. But what about the coincidences that brought me to you in the first place?

Einstein once said that coincidences are God's way of remaining anonymous.."

So strikingly phrased, it is a reminder of our intertwined lives and how destiny shall always play its role. Perhaps if need be, God shall hear our prayers to change what may or may not have been writ before, and with His blessings, nudge our paths to our dreams and let them join, unified, and complete.

An Extract

"Sometimes at night he woke from bizarre dreams and whispered to himself, 'Careful, careful.' Be careful of chaos, of silence, of words, of other people, of myself..."

Give Way...

We make friends in life and sometimes we invest so much of ourselves and so deeply in others that we feel we almost have a claim over them. A possession almost. A jealousy. Wanting them for ourselves.

I finally understand the power of our emotions and the bonds that we create. To receive, we must give, but what happens when we feel we've already given our all, but are still waiting for even the smallest sign that they are still there. Ours. For life. Never swayed despite the attractions on the side. The sin of delight. The delight in sin. Or perhaps it is the creations within our minds that hides the truth of no sin indulged in at all. Perhaps it is in imagination alone that we have lived our lives, in our dreams of late, and it was lies that smiled our souls to sleep.

From this point forward, I just don't care..

Or do I?..

This One's for Me...

Kun saath chu insaan wetsan wadun magar pai chunna aasaan kih, ye kyaazi chu gasaan. Kabhar dillas menz maa chu thyuth kath aasan kus chu emis ander phutrouwan, magar ye kath chunna emis ti pai aasan kih, ye kya hekh esith.

Im cheez chu khetith rozan. Paansi nish chu khetith rozan.

Khabar beyis ma legh pai beysund dillas menz kus kath chu kus chu emis wadnauwan..


Aaz zan phetus. Kah gus bruhkin eun, myoon ath ratun, bei me kun wuchith wanun myaanin uchin menz kyaaz chu ush wasaan.. bei be kath cheezas chas pyaaran..

Just that Once...

Things happen and there's nothing you can do. It's not something that you can control once your foot steps over the edge and you've tumbled down into an abyss of the unknown.

At the end of the day, I think what we want most are answers to whatever questions there may be that keep haunting us, even whilst we sleep. Whilst we dream. And more-so whilst we fall. We want to understand, to learn, and to accept the intentions behind those hands that pushed us. Still yearning for light's hope of the warmth of spoken truth, we find ourselves absently floating into an empty space, waiting, and waiting alone. Drowning within the dark hole, our hearts silently surround, and we take refuge in what we imagine our fearful ends to be.

I wonder what's on the other side...

Giving Thanks...

Thank you. Thank You. THANK YOU!

They do say that if at first you don't succeed, then try, try and try again.. I certainly did that!

Alhamdulillah :)

Rejuvenated Soul...

To spend time away from all that we are used to, amongst those who seek the same as ourselves, all gathered for a common goal, we stand blessed, as hoards of angels stand at our sides.

From time to time, we find that we need that push, that atmosphere of peace and love and the thirst to seek the truth, to finally allow ourselves the chance to flourish and be. A chance to soak in the words, their shine apparent in our faces and dancing from our eyes; a clarity of the soul in the darkness of the night.

It is then that we can stand alone in the silence, at the time when our own heartbeats are the sounds within our ears, that the words can silently permeate our souls, their life infusing into our minds as we succumb to the power it holds.

Rising from one dream and standing in the next, listen with your ears but witness with your heart, as the truth whispers from your tongue, softly shaped and piercingly heard. Understand its beauty whilst time is running out. And when obligation turns into choice, lift off the veils and taste a purity that only the secrets of shadows cast by a darkened sky, can show without the searching light of day. A hidden deed. A higher reward.

Let us not concern ourselves with the waiting for the end. The end of the line, the end of the page. Let us be the ones to follow, and not the ones who are followed. Followed by our soul's true call. Left behind, forgotten, and waiting to be found.

At a measured pace and a lilting tone, let us stand and truly see. Let The Word be our witness. Let it become our shade. And even if you call, though it may be by mistake alone, know that your voice is always heard. Waited for. Rejoiced in, and loved.

Let your hearts feel shame, and may God be your friend.

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These past few days have been one of learning and re-inforcing, and most of all, of aiming to be the best me that there can be and letting the innocence that childhood brings to reaffirm my belief in the peace that we all hold in our souls, and the ability we all have to remain in the purity of love.

Why is it that as we grow older, our expressions of love seem to change? Children give so freely of themselves to others, their smiles lighting up their faces, their hugs more sincere, and their gaze enraptured as they walk amongst those who have that freedom of play. The freedom of not worrying about hidden smiles from those who fear to laugh and run as the children do. The freedom to give as easily as they receive.

I. I count myself amongst those who stand unafraid to express what lies within my heart. Without shame of my love, without cares for who sees, and that is why I feel truly free. Free to embrace, free to hold hands, and free to scramble up on to laps, in comfort and at peace, whilst others look on, amused and unaware of how easy love can be.


It's never too late to be free.

Bare for now...

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My room is my canvas.
My work is my paint.

And the dreams in my mind, the tools I create.

As always, summer calls for a change and as new souls start to coyly weave their songs through the dances of light, I learn to listen to their beats and find my own rhythm in time. For now, I am to lay within an empty frame whilst the shadows from tonight leave their footprints as a trail, waiting to be found..