this life calls to many
patience threads every needle,
i feel the treasure trove thicken
the light fade
but the souls bear no weight.

the city calls to many
treading every step
every running engine
call to the many
feel the love
echo in waves of melancholy.

colored lines fade
in the eyes with no filter.
no color seen
no justice ever served.

wrongs written in red ink
blinded by the joy
as the screams echo.

smiles trace the sounds
where growth prospers
they follow with passion.

where the light shines
they carry the darkness in red.

a darkness feared
by the light.

when the summer came
you left me in doubt
where were you
when the sun hides, no light
perhaps along the trails
of nature you hold dear.

oh dear sunshine
and my dear luminance
nightly you hold me
and daily you love me.

hold the sun ever so close
but cease to love me
you shall not.
amidst the heat
you are the winter i adore,
a breeze i await
in days of gloom
blind me with your warmth

always
i shall
await you.
the beauty
nature searches for
in its flaws

Who do I remain as?
When the sands garner the essence
and hues of my disdain
I remain a pilgrim
or a vagabond, perhaps
In search of condolences for a healing
I may not survive.

So who am I?
If what I seek
is the end for which I long for.
The questions gather
just as the dunes of regret do,
And the answers rise with the kindly winds,
never lingering long enough
to become my own.

They danced beyond the reach of my hands,
leaving only their silence
to guide my wandering.

Only they ever knew
how to bless me with their wisdom.

Beyond the curtain of the unseen,
Rivers of laughter and oceans of grief continue
to carve their names into the heart of time.

If you are a wanderer upon the ancient road,
Do not mourn the distance nor the lingering delay
Every arrival is woven by the patient footsteps of ticking time
With every gentle tone of warmth
The hands of time revolt gently.

You are a timeless pilgrim wandering toward the final sanctuary of love,
Look closely,
For every footstep you have taken,
Your blood has written its mark upon the soil,
A testament carved into the path you have endured.

Oh traveler, do not leave the path,
For the jewel you seek is a treasure hidden beneath the footsteps of those who keep trudging.

A path carried with every heavy burden
Too sacred to forsake,
I bear my own grievances in hopes of absolution
But the essence you shone carries the dust
And the rain I shed accumulates dirt upon your feet
Your presence is known but absent in reality.

Beloved,
Between which horizon
have you hidden yourself from me?

For beneath the dust where your footsteps vanished,
The earth gathered every tear of your sorrow
into a hidden spring;
Which I call my oasis,
And if the tides and winds of time and duality
Take me there,
Will you be there too?
And from the scars the world had etched upon its skin,
A river started to sprout.

Garments holding your essence
The harmonies of love
But the present,
Sings a sweet song
Holding a gentleness only found in acceptance.

And yet again, my mind continues to rumble
Echoes of your laughter linger,
Painting words you would never tell
And perhaps that's where the river shall sprout.

You foretold fairy tales that never came true
But I shan’t let your wisdom be held in contempt.
Where everything began is where it shall end,
And I will become what you never saw.
Where the river shall sprout
Is where the star shall be born.

Across the oasis,
You shall find me
Not waiting
Not anxious,
But at peace,
Shining
with the light
I once mistook
for yours.

In times of trial and tribulation, heavy sorrows, and deep despair, you’ll hear the ayah(part of the ayah):

“لَا يُكَلِّفُ ٱللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا ۚ" - “Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear” ( Surah Al-Baqarah 2:286)

You hear it so much, and most people emphasise that whatever hardship you're going through, Allah subhanah-watallah sees you; He knows you are strong and will come out in triumph. As Muslims, we must try our best to keep our strength of faith as strong as we can, making sure to always have faith in our Lord subhanah-watallah.

The understanding that no despair is greater than any man is very correct, but I think a different perspective should be viewed.

What if, when you're praying for ease, for change, different circumstances, a new environment, etc., and Allah SWT does not grant it to you in the time you would prefer, maybe it's less that he does not see you and more that Allah SWT is preparing you for goodness. For example, A man is praying and constantly making dua'a for a spouse, and it’s been years; at some point, the hope for companionship has slowly withered. Meanwhile, Allah SWT is waiting for you to be in good enough shape (mentally, physically, financially) to be able to provide the life you desire for you and your partner. While you've been praying for companionship, Allah SWT has opened doors for you to lead you there. A new job, better pay, better circumstances; you became more conscious of your health, started to eat better, and so on. And at times, that blessing you desire is just one prayer away, one qiyam al-layl away; you feel it so far away, but to Allah SWT, He'll move mountains just so you could finally feel the blessing of patience.

This is exactly what part of the Ayah says: (Surah Ar-Ra'd 13:11)

{ إِنَّ ٱللَّهَ لَا يُغَيِّرُ مَا بِقَوْمٍ حَتَّىٰ يُغَيِّرُوا۟ مَا بِأَنفُسِهِمْ ۗ} - “Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.”

And the truth is that there is nothing as difficult as patience, whatever it is you await.
It's hard; that's the truth. It feels heavy, trying to persevere, to stay faithful.
To keep your heart and soul still connected to Allah SWT and his book. But Allah SWT does not just see you; He rewards you in ways you could never imagine. Whether it be in this dunyah or the akhirah, you will be sufficiently rewarded; and these are not just my words but the promise of our Lord, our Creator, Allah SWT.

رَبَّنَا أَفْرِغْ عَلَيْنَا صَبْراً وَثَبِّتْ أَقْدَامَنَا وَانصُرْنَا عَلَى القَوْمِ الكَافِرِينَ

“Our Lord, pour upon us patience and plant firmly our feet and give us victory over the disbelieving people.”

leave a little love
beyond the caged harmonies
symphonies of hope,
you will echo.

along a new horizon,
you leave traces of your color,
every shade of blue, orange, and purple,
you reside amongst the departed
in solace
in peace
in hope;
you reside there.

i feel the echoes patronize us,
with shadows of symbols
the signatures of hope
wrapped in cursive
and all-inclusive.

I'll be there
we all will be

to leave a little love
i rest my soul
to the soil
in hopes of fruition.

let it rain
let it pour

we all need a little love

so when the sun shines gently yet again
leave me,
amongst the departed
the present and the illusions.

i just need a little love.

where everything new and old resides
the hearts plead for belonging
upon the land they lay
which divides and unites,
riches for the light
and unity for the dark.

upon rivers that unite
the trees hide greater riches
or perhaps the dunes of sand
rest upon shoulders of steel
the strongest there is.
colors unseen to the light,
laid upon the weak
give strength to the blood,
claim mother
but in the hands of the light
do not raise their flag
in surrender or flair.

they do not claim you
they only conquer;
colonize.

spilled blood,
you are the darkness that frightens,
the harmony that quakes
the voices that echo, not in plead
not in fear,
in pride.
you are the charming dark
fearful,
but only to the frail light.
painted in beauty
you shine the brightest.
amongst the illuminated
your darkness will blind

shed their flag
wear your color
and where darkness is foreign
show them our color.

we'll always shine the brightest

Pale ambapo giza lako ni geni, utang’aa zaidi kuliko wakati wowote.

A duk inda duhunka ya zama sabon abu, za ka fi kowa haskakawa.

where your darkness is foreign, you’ll always shine brightest.

i think the light would still shine
even in your absence.
or maybe that’s what i like to tell myself,
to avoid the frivolous night,
where i stay up wondering
about a future
a place
a destiny.

treading along the night sky
your light finds me wherever i plead,
a constant i desire,
upon cruel nights,
tragedies resist my eyes,
to which the source of every sorrow resides.

i remember you
in question,
in the most blissful nights
you’re my constant.

amongst all the sorrowful nights
you’re the dream that awakens me.

Tracing the footsteps you left in the mud, I’ve tried to learn where grief starts in hopes of knowing where it will end. Grief echoes songs of eternity; ironic, isn’t it? Songs of eternity reflecting the temporary fragility everything beholds. Promises sprout out from the ground in spirits of hope unseen before.

How do you begin to grieve something you never knew?

Where the city traces the night sky, I’ll find our two kindred souls there. Upon the gentle night, our hearts intertwine that much more. I plead towards the chaos in search of you, and there I shall find you.

We walked around the city, every single finger caressing the other in the midst of our love; nothing shall collapse. I see the way your eyes glimmer when the moon is in sight; my eyes glimmer the same way as I look at you right now. A hundred roses erupt from my soul with every glimpse, every touch. I await the day you unravel me and are met with these gardens of love embedded with your scent.

Tuesday 00:20

Heading towards our favorite park, we get our routine pastry snack. I get you your croissant and my danish, a warm cup of coffee in my hand and a cup of hot chocolate in yours. Treading along the pathway, the low lamplights with their warm tones- not too bright, not too dark, just enough to show you where to keep your feet. Taking a seat at our one and only bench, the best view of the city from up here, and it has our name on it (like actually), always making sure to see our engraved letters remain as a testament to time. Connecting our earphones to my phone, starting off the playlist with some timeless Sade.

Enchanted by the city lights, I feel your head start to lean on me gently, fingers intertwined. I feel every bit of life this love offers, and I felt it wither in silence with every bit of withdrawal I couldn’t stop.

Grief is an interesting disease, but how do I accept the absence of a lover who once held my heart in ways nothing else could? Why is the world so cruel?

Death, death, death.

Grief, grief, grief.

Grief is a disease that has taken every inch of my being, but I would’ve taken your suffering, done anything to keep you in good health, done anything to keep that glimmering smile in good life. I want to see you smile just ONE MORE TIME.

Take me instead; she kept the Earth alive, the sun shining, the people smiling.

The sun doesn’t shine its oranges the same anymore.

I feel your absence in ways nature cannot place its laws upon, so where does the grief of loss begin, and where do I end?

Where do I find the life that should prosper when the light I held has withered away?

I feel your presence in its absence, the way the tree branches dance; I wave back to you, too.

I love you, my dearest, and I know you loved me too.

Sing the songs of eternity for me; I shall see you soon.

the darkness makes blind beggars of us all

chasing the escaping sun
the songs will remind us of our weak
and our mistakes live on
in the fire of ember
that we light up

the evil live on forever
in the spirit of false philosophies
and who rises above
to the men
to the sword
in yield by your script.

who yields your throne?

a fleet
with evil branched into the hearts
darkness embedded,
runs through every vein
hold your heart
not in contempt
in sacrifice
to the lost
to the found
to the man in heir
wearing the mask you desire.

intricacies you trace
but the war
was the red,
the chemical you fear
catalyst to the night

the darkness
has made you blind
your eyes filled with red.

the darkness
has made us all blind beggars for hope

but what is hope to the eyes that cannot see
in fear of the light
the throne flocks to the brim in greed,
in fear of darkness
a fearful night elapses
eternally.

so who yields thee throne?

a prince of shame
or the sacrifice which speaks?

the prince
the sacrifice
the queen
we all fear the light
and such the dark.

in the end
who needs no sacrifice
faces the bow and arrow

a weak soldier yields the throne

the audience claps
they scream and cheer,
noise all in this world we pertain.

reach out into your endless destiny,
what identity do you behold?
who do you hope to become
in a world filled with so many maps
will you curate a destination
or follow the path of many?

questions behold mistaken philosophies,
seek out your gold, your treasure,
what lies within
who shall you become
in a mistaken phrase
the letters dance,
because they exist
in no choice of the matter,
they just exist,
that's their treasure.

find the gold lining
where the sun shines last
where the moon remains eternally
where your smile elapses perpetually.

shine your gold
and there you shall curate a destiny.

the wise hairs have fallen
colored in grey, thinner than i could have ever imagined. they spoke in grandiose fonts about this youth, or so that’s what they titled it.

the so called youth remains, and the extent of the anger i hid away has returned yet again.
so when the sun decides to shine again in the forthcoming years, what shape of grey shall i become?

a string of hope? or perhaps a dreaded hair amongst the many.
The labels scare me, written in italics; I'm warned of everything.
allergies, skin irritation, scalp disease, and long-term effects.
written in every way, in every font the eye can see;
decisions to make,
bold in shame, italic in fear.

the years grew fond of my despair,
i have fallen
alongside the grey and the darker.

what shape of grey will i take?

a resilience only found in this dark soul.

reach inside me
whatever purity you find
preserve it in your goodness.

the sun shines so bright
in rays of warmth, no measurement could stand
yet here i am
with a void so consuming

colors in every shade
every hue of the rainbow
fall in rectangular temporal shapes
with the intent of joy
but the melancholy i hold
is a cloud that knows no season.

the sun is so dark
preserve me in your warmth
for darkness is all I've ever known.

a melancholy so defiant,
portions of absolution i only smell a whiff of
shower me in your holy essence
defy the natural darkness i possess.
take me home
show me the light
obstruct nothing.

blind me
preserve your warmth
hold me tight.

shower me
blind me
take me home

and maybe there the darkness shall prevail

with tears in her eyes,
i still pronounced a promise with deep clarity,
a dream has become reality
let go? i shall not,
not ever again.

the woman of many dreams.
she held intricacies
details only found in scripts of myth,
yet here she is
as my woman,
no no.
as the woman she's always sought out,
she shines in light
in hues, shades of purple,
a deep embrace of time
of saturation only she could know.

gardens spring out with each glance.
walk hand in hand,
let's not hope my beloved,
the ink shall hold our names
our story, our love,
your shade of beauty,
your love,
you.


love and death.
they walk hand in hand,
grief creeps up,
love echoes.
yet they both remain,
forever.

so in this life and the next?

you died alongside my remaining consciousness
i remained where my heart followed the treasure map.



filled with shame
yet you gleam with pride
but your tongue hesitates
the words do not dance gently,
each letter breaks sweat
your eyes flicker like a light
a lamp that screams reality,
this is reality,
so will you scream and gleam with pride?

scream it
shout it
2 words
no map needed
no wandering finger
just wandering dancing eyes
just the drenched letters
and the hesitant tongue,
the pen glides with ease
but not your heart.

speak.
where did it begin
and where did his story end?

let him down with pride.
speak it, scream it
let it echo to the ends.

heritage, stories, tales.
you hold it.

SCREAM IT.

solace gasped at the sight of my soul
where everything crumbled
i sought out a gentle peace
that would speak,
i desired a home
that would not broil with anger,
where rivers would not divide upon my face,
i sought out a memorial.

where does remembrance reside?
alongside my heart?
and to whom shall i plead?
no guidance is desired compassion to these rivers.

plead a river
and an ocean you shall receive

i felt comfort rush through me with earnest,
jolly as a man could be
war washed away from the minds,
frolic away oh young one.

where is gentleness a language?
a home to reside in.
here i have reached,
here i am,
home.

but why does the light flicker in such peculiar patterns,
as if it spoke in code,
in a language i should understand,
but strangely, i am not anxious.
i chuckle,
i cry
but plead i shall not.

a deep acceptance floods me,
home has not reserved my name
not in any language,
not in any color or shade of ink;
home does not belong to me.

but in that brief dream,
i was home
even if it was for a moment of reality.

they preached
and echoed
the instruments chuckled
laughed
smiled in greeting,
servants to the voices,
to the chants
that echo
in which revolution is their essence
so where does the shattering begin
and where do we end?

or is our story not one for history?
have we been forgotten,
to the joy of the circus
to the sound of chewing
the bread they provided
where does the story end?
and where shall we begin?

we are what resides
what remains
in times of tribulation
the people's voices shall always echo

we
remain

our essence
our love.
our warmth

we are the power
we are the revolution

surrender has no place in our hearts.
i hold a white flag,
and i shall paint it black

we will always remain.

i could be younger on some days,
the darkness could chase me endlessly,
and it will.

upon a cruel night,
i disappear
into a sleep that does not belittle me
where no words shall linger,
no voices shall echo other than my own despair.

where does the light begin
and where shall i end
the fairy tale
where my prowess drags in no hope.

who shall remain after
the ink has dried out?

waste of mind
time ticks softly
as you grace us with your smile,
everything speaks so gently,

without that guiding voice,
its all but a waste of time.
i hear you in every gentle wake,
when the days disappear into the night,
and the night shines,
upon a harsh whisper
i hear you echo.

a chuckle that grew lamps of hope,
dripping oil,
but the flame withered,
at my hand, it'll always wither.

I'll always hear you when the nights grow silent,
and days where the sun doesn't shine as bright.
(your absence is felt)

silence wears your voice
like the essence of joy upon a cruel existence,
i feel myself wither gently,
tethered to your light,
to the sun that knows no bound;
so when you shall sent and rise once again,
burn your light throught my ribs
until darkness is but a fairy tale we shall tell.

i feel the grooves upon your heart,
i feel the blood, the life within you,
engraved stories and ache,
let us heal together.
let's.


i see you.
when you shine,
blind me.
but never forbid me of your presence.
i need my star.

you're my light,
my moon,
my constant.


it all keeps disappearing,
but remain my beloved;
bless me with your eyes
your provoking glance,
a gentle unraveling.
undo every knot of grief
undo me,
I'm yours, oh beloved.

so please
do not shy away.
shine oh beloved.

shine your light
blind me.

I saw the sun, and it shone a certain hue;
burned with the colour of farewell.
Oh, but what is the kindly sun
If not the purveyor of love
I saw the sun in your eyes
It greeted and whispered good riddance
In tones of melancholic acceptance.

I sat amongst the rushing seas of sand,
A thirst shall overcome me any minute now.
Acceptance never came easily
when you spoke with your sweet gentleness
My mind constructs fantasies
The sun,
as I see it,
is you.


Oh, but what a fool I am.


My thirst has made me a dreamer once again,
Blood streams from my eyes
in this lonely corner of patience,
The patience i endure
is nothing less than the scattering
of my soul.
I have gathered the ashes of my heart
from the winds of sorrow,
Yet the flame within me
refuses to surrender its ember to the darkness.

I sit beneath the endless sky,
Where every star bears witness
to the grief i have hidden
and every shadow
remembers the tears i could not shed.
My patience has become a garden watered by my blood,
Where roses bloom from the soil of my suffering,
And every thorn holds
a whisper of what departed,
Like a scar on the skin
of a flower that once knew spring.

What a shame,
In this blood-soaked game,
The hearts of humankind
are but fallen leaves
in the hands of passing days,
carried wherever the winds of time decree,
Towards seasons they cannot foresee,
Never to return,
For a past that won’t linger
And a river that shan’t persevere.

Yet the river was never meant to mourn the stones that wounded its path;
It carved its sorrow into valleys
and carried its lament toward the horizon,
For what are the stones in the pathway to something greater?

What is the rain amongst the bellows I plead,
My eyes have grown gloomy
As the heavens saw me,
while you never did,
So here I am, remaining as a grieving man
…

What is rain
to a man already drowning?

The oceans never saw the grief i shall pertain
Amongst the seas that have no name,
So what shall remain?

Carrying an ocean within my chest
that no shore has yet embraced,
A heart that has become
the vessel of forgotten rains,
And from the depths of this sorrow
The waters of remembrance begin
To awaken,
And from that trace,
A river is born.

Every bruise upon its current
became a ripple of remembrance,
born to carry scars into its depths,
Singing over the very wounds
that once sought to silence its song.

the sea awaited,
And so did I.

…

Water that comes to rest
is swiftly swallowed by the earth
Only the river
that never ceases to flow
becomes the sea.

the cultivation of a culture is not written with ink,
but paint that echoes times and tides of triumph,
in shades, mixed and blended.
plotted upon canvases,
sold for the mighty paper
green, and its colossal strength.
from the duality of nature,
down to the duality of humanity.

is it green
or white that rules the world?

a tale as old as time,
but what is time when green persists?
who do you belong to?

the green thats chosen happiness for you
or the white that has chosen you;
chosen your fate?

happiness?
if only.

freedom, justice, equality.
factors and jokes as old as the white hand.
the white hand
that moves time.

maintain the community,
cultivate the trees,
the green
to reap even more greed.

but happiness was promised?
and so was justice,
equality,
freedom?

where have those promises been redeemed?
shall i find those letters amongst the landfill?

or shall i throw my body there,
are you pleased with me oh dear massa?

have i been good enough?

not dark enough,
yet blood is blood.
the sun has preached.
thy melanin echoes.

everything has gone your way, dear massa
so who’s culture is next?

anything but the walls.