Flawed

A piece of heaven on earth, the Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddin mosque in Brunei Darussalam. It reminds me that despite our flaws, there is hope, there is beauty that we can create within and without.
A piece of heaven on earth, the Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddin mosque in Brunei Darussalam. It reminds me that despite our flaws, there is hope, there is beauty that we can create within and without.
This world will hurt, everyone you forge a bond with, will too. Until you realize your feelings can transcend beyond them to something less ephemeral, to something less transient, and finally arrive at something that is purposeful, that is eternal.

Until then, you will bleed, it will hurt, those you care about will fail you, and they must, that’s how it is meant to be – no one is meant to keep you in tact, that role is too big a burden for any mere mortal like yourself or like them to shoulder. Only the Eternal,can.

Allah, I’m 27 years, and I finally understand. The previous times, I sought to forget, I strived to rebuild that trust and try one more time to trust. But it isn’t about trust – it isn’t about not trying hard enough – we all do, we all don’t want to hurt, if we can afford it. The thing is we can’t for our flaws do define us, like it or not. But so do our strengths, and so we strive – it is an endless pursuit of balance – like that of a race with a teaspoon carrying a pping pong ball, except that spoon is in your mouth and your eyes, blindfolded. It was never meant to be easy.

It will ache, as it does now. But I strive.

Allah, I pray for wisdom to choose what is right, to have courage to pursue it and the strength to sustain my efforts at it.

The heart.

The heart. It throbs. It feels. It hurts. It governs. It inspires. It pains. It aches. It ebbs. Allah.

Have you felt that sinking aching ebb? It is a dull throbbing motion – one that rises swiftly in wisps to the surface to morph into physical pain but simmers just in time.

Just in time so that it feigns its existence like a distant painful past. There but almost forgotten. Almost.

How do you create magic that cures. Broken hearts, crushed dreams, yawning fears.

You exhale in short pained gusts – that neither unleashes nor heals. I know He knows. I know He hears and sees, and understands why. I pray for change, for the power to create magic. To heal.

What do you do when your heart is tagged to the aches of others? What do you do when you try so hard, but fall battered? What if I told you of my unspoken struggles?

But still, I pay thanks, for without pain, what is life’s journey? For how trivial my issues seem to the world’s grave fatalities.

The ache – it is there. What if I told you my external struggles are reflective of my incapacity to deal with the internal?

Someday I will inspire in a way you can understand.