My-croscope

Misery might love company, but pain only needs an audience.

- The Way of the Phoenix -

It searches. Endlessly. In perennial streams. And when it cannot find, it creates.

Illusions. Placebos.

There is no rage in its courage. Even in their dying hours the embers are stoked not by anger, but by passion. It is with this courage with which it will submit; embrace the stem of reality; a thousand poisonous thorns in the shadow of a rose. And thousand poisonous thorns are what is needed to create pores in a body closed off - so it can pour out the pain and then breathe again.

There is no consolation here. Prepare your warmest condolences for the fallen. All these streams meet in an ocean of dismay & disappointment. How deep this ocean runs.

The salt water has put out the fire. Still hope floats. And so we wait. We wait for that day when a fateful breeze will blow, the embers will once again be incensed, and the ashes will once more set ablaze.

- Until from the ashes we are raised -

The Little that Means A Lot

I received flowers today. The colors brought a smile to my face, but after that brief moment of reprieve i wanted to throw them away. "They're going to die in a few days anyway" i thought to myself. What is our obsession with delaying death and parting ways, even if it be the death of something so beautiful? How hard we try to cling to air....

You can cut the hands of the clock, but time will continue running; your heart will keep ticking. No matter how hard you try to stay still, time will drag you with it. And so you are forced to ride the ebb and flow of the em-ocean.

I think this as i walk toward the door and just as i am about to discard them, her hands gently stop mine.

She holds her eyes with mine in a way that only eyes pregnant with kindness can. She says:

"Enjoy them. Love them. I know. I know that despite the necessary time, care, and attention, they may never fully bloom. And yes, the only outcome certain is that they will one day - soon - wilt. But if by His/Her leave they do bloom, then even after they have wilted; even after the red and green is consumed by black, they will leave behind a fragrance for tomorrow. And you know what the worth of tomorrow ultimately becomes don't you? The worth of every tomorrow is nothing if not the fragrance of yesterday".

Its all about the fragrance.

S/H/E-go

"Your ego's writing out cheques your body can't cash".

Rickshaw Philoso-phree: My Favorite Way to Live

"Love for sale: 100% discount".

Echoes: Last Words

"buss itna hi kahoon ga: seedhay raastay par rehna".

- 22nd August 2006 -

Rand-om-ar: Abid at a Loss for Words

Your face is ---------- very mashAllah.