My thoughts haunt me. Day to day, left questioning, left waiting.
Looking at the skies, I can’t help but wonder, when?
When will it all end? When will the mountains crumble into nothingness?
When will the sun shift my shadow 180 degrees?
When?
When will the injustice stop?
When will the killings end?
I see the moon and wish I could be there, looking at this circle.
This planet we call “home.”
A place where the smallest trifles make up most of our lives and waste our precious time.
A place where nothing matters.
How I wish to just sit there, looking from a distance, at all the meaningless struggles.
How worthless it makes us seem.
So small in comparison to what lies beyond.
My experiences, my memories.
My life.
It all seems surreal. A kind of lucid dream.
So when will I wake up?
When?
Will I leave my mark on the world?
Will I be a stepping stone for humanity?
I feel numb to everything.
Happiness is deception. Sadness is deception. Anger is deception.
All which distracts the purity of what I must come to focus upon.
I am not here to give speeches.
I am not here to write love letters.
I am not here to waste my time.
The human mind can only process what the fitrah has endowed into it.
Feelings of joy are inherent. The wonders a smile can do to a person.
Feelings of sadness are inherent. The responsiveness of rejection. Of being hated. Ignored.
What can one do?
The peace and tranquility awaits me.
I’ve been longing for my return.
Every moment of opening my eyes to another day reminds me that I am trapped once more.
Imprisoned.
A paradise I can easily throw myself into. Lavish in its luxury.
And yet, I refuse to do so. Why?
The eternal truth is there. Undeniable in every sense.
The purpose to exist, written, right there.
To accept it means to be the prisoner.
To follow it means to understand the soul.
To abide by it means the promise of the beauty of what is to come.
Never forget the purpose.
The reason.
Externally, I feel… counterfeit. Fabricated.
A mock representation. Something I am not.
I did not choose this body. Nor the skin color, the facial structure, the eyes. Not even the nails.
And yet, deep within, lies something.
Something so imaginative… creative. An inspiration to my own self.
A substance which never ceases to keep me going.
A spirit which lacks the understanding of giving up.
It pains me at times. It feels the need to jump out at the most inconvenient notice.
It wants to help. It wants to feel. It wants to comfort, to love, to free people from misery, anxiety, and remorse.
It wants to correct the incorrect. Right the wrong. Connect to that which behaves as it behaves.
But where to find such an essence?
Is it only one of its kind?
Many are trapped in their own minds.
Their souls are not allowed to roam. Thus, life is a mere movie for them, stuck on play.
How it longs to return… the spirit within me.
Back to the source… back home.
This feeling… words cannot describe. The pain it gives me in the night, hoping for release.
The day will come, but the question remains.
When?
When will I set out, amongst the rest?
When will I finally be free?
Free of this place… this world, this reality?
It doesn’t know if it can take much more.
Understand that hope is the lifeblood of the soul.
Without hope, we are lost in the covers of darkness.
That hope resides within all of us.
We strive day to day, wondering, wishing, pleading for a way out, for a life we dream about.
You must come to realize that this life is not attainable here. It never will be.
The happiness will come, the sadness will come. It is inevitable.
But so is the final destination. Where I long to go. Where it longs to go.
Where the path ends.
To be free, in every way imaginable.
To perceive life in this way, I may have at last found some small measure of peace that I have seeked for so long.
A peace that all of us look for, and few of us ever find.
The most beautiful thing above all else is the soul. Don’t let it go to waste. The potential will always be there.
Sometimes, it just needs a little push.
I am the same decaying organic matter as you.
I travel through this town as a passerby. A nomad.
Little concerns me. I have no past nor future.
An eternal being, in every sense of the word.
Life is now the pitstop on the way to bliss.
The second to last stage in my metamorphosis.
I am not my body or my clothes.
Nor am I my car, my grades, or my money.
I am not what I say or what I do.
What I am, is a servant of God.
The One who has given me life.
Created me for a reason.
The instrument of the Ummah. The fiber. The strength. The dignity. The honor.
Whatever you have seen of me in the past, of now, and until the end of time, is not me.
I am inside. Awaiting rebirth.
The true potential will never expose itself, at least in this life.
I am simply playing my part until the appointed time.
An actor with his many faces.
A mere puppet. A piece in the chess game.
Few will understand, many will not care.
From here on, I am the change.
A year has gone by since the first awakening. Now it’s time to transform yet again.
Life has played its many tricks on me, but the tables have turned.
It’s time to play the role.
And failure is not an option.
