Friday, January 07, 2005

Trinkets

This piece was written way back just a few weeks before the kuwait-iraq war, 1990. It won itself a place in an International Poetry Competition. A heart devoid of love begets war, arrogance and more things in the closet. Can you sleep at night knowing that when you awake you may see that everything you've destroyed include your little niche in transcient~heaven

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

I've touched the sands of yesteryear
That once graced the Summer shorelines
But I've never felt it in my heart
The love you've given me...

What is this thing we call Love
Is it dropping bombs to kill
To laugh and weep two-facedly
Whilst stabbing each other's backs

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"To reap away the happiness of
Someone else's land"

Is it to form an Aid of Universal
Brotherhood
To lend a helping hand

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"To not repeat what our forefathers left behind"

I've yet to see the rising Sun
And dews that help to heal
The sorrows and the fears in men
I've yet to see it be

For all we've done is to destroy
The World and what's within
All fatherless children
That may seem to be leaders of a land

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}

"Is this a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow"

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

{Split beat - voices whispered in background}
"Is it a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow
Its just a dream.."

To proudly say one day
That this un-weeded
Garden in the Sky
Was earth we lived in...

I've heard of little stars above
That shone another time
And of sweet smelling Daffodils
That bloomed in early Spring

{Split beat - children's voices whispered in background}

"Is it a dream
To find that little pot of gold
at the end of the morning rainbow
Its just a dream.."

Sans Titre

Would you, if you were given wealth and power destroy a life, that took years to shape, stories to build, and pages of bittersweetness only to halt it in a flash of an instance, with a bullet, or...

I have but a Dollar
To spare you today
But
If I could, I'd bring
You home, and wash
Your tired feet
Whilst you admire
The M-16
I
Hold in my hands

The Alibi

She sits and awaits
The Muse
Pondering and weighing, each word
each, sigh
As it drifts in her cryptic
imagination hoping to catch
in her stanza -- net
one with satiate ado
singular enough to awaken
your jaded hearts to
persistance of your diurnal lives
Only to find these words
Unclothed, leaning
With no core of fortitude
Nor enough weight
to refashion your worlds
of its viciousness

...

Seizing the Sun
Her eyes closed
feeling its blush
pressing, moist lips apart
wishing, whispering unto
her self of nothingness
unsweet
to see it on paper and ink
sans espoir
to be read by glazed minds
and hardened hearts

...

the sheets of disappointments
read by unopened manuscripts
crumpled the dreaded bark
weaving another yarn
hoping, always
hoping not to musing
with solemn words
of another dream
unappreciated
nor loved by hearts
tended with tears

Of Treasures

of what is heard
from painless pleasure
the need to be loved
a timeless treasure

no hunger nor thirst
under the hot blazing Sun
a wound needs to be nursed
before it can run

under the cool, rush
hours of a waterfall
to play in the sunset
with the moon, you and
I

Of Heartbeats

The muezzin call for prayers
can be heard like a lovers' whisper
aliken a heart of the plodding rain
decorating the canopy of
creation
embraced in its patterns of
paragons
the topaz clouds darken away
letting the moonstone
glimmer
in the darkness of another day

Of The Self

I
have no desires left
to bequeath to you
nor share the Cause of life
beside you alone
under this canopy of love's
sweetest glory

..

for I
am but the Servant
void of rights upon the selves
let alone be the owner of destinies
the path of the heavenly destinations

..

You
are the controller of these breaths
controller of these steps I take
towards a better understanding of
the truth which
you have actuate
in Me

..

I am but the seeker
nor answers to the questions
seek not from me
nor from the servant
but from you
Master of Worlds

Kuwait - Iraq 1990

Written just a few weeks prior the kuwait-iraq war in 1990.

so much talk about Peace
yet nothing's been done
i see war against men in
every nation
war against time
in every second
bloodshed from the early
days of creation

why must there be a reason
for all of our actions
why must there be a reason
for dropping bombs and
firing missiles
destroying what used to be
homes of love untorn

why can't we live in harmony
living together in Peace
why do we have to take sides
on who's good and who's bad
can't we leave this childishness
and lead our lives to the
assembly of great men

why must we have more than
we should
can't we be thankful to the Lord
for little things He's granted us
why do we see each person
so far apart from our very us
we say we are not racists
yet we still condemn colours
religions and status!

when is this war going to end
do we have to wait before
its too late
seeing the pranks backfire
when He decides to stuff His toys
into bags of annihilation

so what if i'm a muslim,
christian or jew
i'm still a human being
i want to see another day through
perhaps with my children
perhaps with my people
perhaps to even say goodnight
without have to fear
what's going to happen

Free

Love is free, its not something which you can hold on to. It is never, and I mean, never contained. Its like the air you breathe, it escapes every moment. Hence the moment must be savoured in extremity in order to appreciate its essence. This is Love, all else is just lust

how can you hold
not loosing Me
loosing time
over sleep not
wanting, nor rewinding
like a
broken record you
parlay sweet nothingness

no

love is free
it can be as free as the air
you breathe
as free as the
tears you shed
as free as
the pain that cuts
and slices your
heart into

nothingness

love is not cruel
its soft sweet vanilla
essence is just
a comfort zone
cosmeticology

its not black, nor white
grey nor shadowed
its pure life as its
pure in death

hold Me, hold Me
not you can't hold
something that
you've never had
I am yours' no, I
am not, I am beyond
your rantless
thought

how fickle you say
can love be, well
love can be what
love is, for love
is essence in spirit
free and only
free as a breath
can one be

Never Love

..Too Loud

let me, pick
up the bones
you've left them dry
on the bed
..even your shirt no longer
stain of love,
but the perfume of your
hair still linger in the
room, why did you go
away.. didn't we loved enough..?

these bones are rough
unlike your skin when
you were joyous, and happy
when we were so in love drowning
in our madness like bees into
honey but now it stings badly
it stings, to see these bones
all resting without a whisper
you did not move
not a budge since you
lay to sleep
my love

i thought you were playing
death like we always do
we always laughed till our hearts
cried, cramped in pain
for the laughter
is all we had between
the love that veiled us
perfectly

i no longer laugh now, no
longer cared to love.. for
you have taken the madness
and even left me with
these bones, what am i to
do, we should have agreed
on cremation instead

but the fire would not touch us
as we laughed and loved
our hearts we cried circling
around uneasily like a pair
of drunked honeybees not
knowing when to stop, yield till
you said you're out of
breath

i sit here rocking on
this chair and awaited your return
but you had turn to
dust, your shirt no longer
stain of love, but the perfume
of your hair still linger in the
room, why did you go
away...didn't we love
enough...?

All For You

If I could, I would build
A fortress of Love, around your heart
If I could, I would shower
Your Worlds with a tear

If I could, I would spread
Your Wings and let flight be your plight
And I would, if I could
All for you, my Love

In this world, there are eyes
But sights {all} unseen
In this world, there are hearts
Filled with everything safe Him

If I could, I would turn the worlds
All around, & decorate it with Lights
And I would, if I could
All for you, my Love...

And I would,
All for you, my Love..

Liberty

Paris is yours'
For only five dollars
Turn the pages
Prints of coloured images
Cascade like water rainbows
Under the Iron Tower
That once cried out
Liberte Egalite Fraternite

A long time ago
When Paris was
Not

Excerpt

Excerpt from "Pardonne-Moi de T'Avoir Aimé"

Life is the most essential freedom there is. If we are trapped in life, it is not because we have ignored the possibilities of living. Sometimes the fear of living puts us into our own cage, our own trap. Because this fear is inborn, we have the capabilities of overcoming it with love. If only we are ready to accept Love as a possible refuge to our existence, our lives would be in peace and the nations gathered would be One in existence.

La vie est la liberte le plus essentielle qu'il ya. Si nous y sommes pris au piege, ce n'est pas parcque nous avons feint d'ignorer les possibilites de vivre. Quelquefois, la crainte de vivre nous mettre en notre propre cage, notre propre piege. Parcque cette crainte est innee, nous avons les capacites de lui vaincre avec l'amour. Si seulement nous sommes prets de l'accepter comme un refuge possible a notre existence, nos vies seraient en paix et les nations qui se sont rassemblees seraient unies en existence.

On Submission

Shall I be cruel to you and tell you of your origin, and hope that you would kneel down and submit to The Lord, that has fashioned you with perfection, and perhaps a heart?

Should I contemplate the universalities that is within you and paint you a picture of what you truly are? or should I just leave you on your pedestal, believing you are the one and only and all that encircle you are images, the lovers you take home every night would save you from the Fire?

Should I remind you of a time when you used to love me, and nothing but me, for all there is to love, and adore is me and your eyes inched not to other than me? but now....

Encased in a world fashioned with imageries, you falter, you look at other than ME, and parlay sweet words.. promising things, but never undertake the promises

Yet you pray and label yourself a believer in ME ALONE
yet you fight to the death in proclaiming love for ME ALONE
and you rush to save a child from an enraged father, for the love of ME ALONE

How tort you are
Foolish you are

have you forgotten what you are?
and where you were before I encassed you in the lowest of the lowest

between blood and milk
between water and earth
between...

I see everything, I know everything, I hear everything and I command every movement in your body, your cells, your dna, it is I.. not the lovers you take in every night, giving clothes to, and kisses passionate

or have you forgotten your promises? to love and cherish for all eternity in sickness and in health; in poor or in kind

you run! but where can you hide? there is not a place within your universe that I do not hold, nor that is NOT under my command ALONE

will you come now, and sit beside me, adore me like you never adored any other than ME ALONE? or were you just pretending to love ME ALONE, for the fear of the Fire?

or would you still parlay and promise promises .. hoping I would forget everything and bring you into the worlds you beg for, the peace you need

... and the forgiveness you seek..

and you wonder why there is no unity amongst your brethen? when you cannot even submit to ME ALONE. are your promises as weak as your faces that will be swiped of identity, as your fingerprints swiped of lines, and histories?

whether you like it or not, you will return Home, to ME ALONE. Will you tell me of your stories, and your lies and deceitful ways, and your promises never fulfilled, whilst you proclaim to those whom i've chosen unto ME ALONE, eternal happiness, "paupers unfit to be fed, to be schooled, to be helped, or loved...vagrants" in need to farther the cause?

or should I paint you the pictures of your lies, deceit, and treacherous ordeals you have undertaken to stop these whom I've chosen unto

ME ALONE....

A Love Letter

A Love letter from the heart, expounding on the essence of living with Love

darling,

if i could
i'd paint a tableaux the size of this world
i'd sing you a melody from
the heavens
i'd fly you to where
Love* resides beyond

if i could, for you
i'd paint the hearts of men to love
the women of their nation
i'd bloom the flowers not only in
springtime but all throughout the year
i'd give each tear a meaning
i'd reason a smile

if i could, my love beyond the
reasonings of sentiments
i'd make love to you throughout
your breathing moments while you sleep,
work, pray, eat
i'd be there loving you completely
as i know now

if i could, i'd command the angels
to sing you praises to the Lord
protect you from the pain in your heart
the loneliness that cuts like a
stranger or a vagrant in winter

if i could, i'd extract the perfumes of life
from the flowers in heaven and
drench you with love from within
you, i will but alas i can only love you,
darling and beyond this i will try to give
when i'm ordained...

with all my love, god speed,

* this place is called the Sidra Al Muntaha, and within this place we were once lovers separated now, for we're here to re-define ourselves, remembering the purpose of this life, and making the best of what we have no matter how far apart we are

An Ode To Thee

When love hits you hard, you falter, and in the consciousness of being loved, love beckons you to a castle of light, and therein, you'd find nothing but...

SubhanAllaahuNuruusSamawatiwalArdh
Thou art so beautiful to Me
Thou art beyond the clouds and seas
Thou art the Light Thou Seest in Me
How I love Thee

AllaahuNuruusSamawatiwalArdh
To be is a joy to hold
And Hold containable
To swim in abyss deep
To Heal the Madness of the Worlds

SubhanAllaahuNuruusSamawatiwalArdh
AllaahuNuruusSamawatiwalArdh
Allaahul`Aaliyul`Aadhim
I'd do anything for Thee

To be is a joy to hold
And Hold containable
To swim in abyss deep
To Heal the Madness of the Worlds

To be is a joy to hold
And Hold containable
To swim in abyss deep
To Heal the Madness of the Hearts

Where clamness of waves return to Light
Reverting Home, embracing Life
For Thou art my Saviour Great
When men throw daggers in the skies

Expecting raindrops of Thy Gracious Blood

Will Thou Open up their hearts
To see Thy Reality that never bites
In tears I call out Your Names
And let the hearts heal again

SubhanAllaahuNuruusSamawatiwalArdh
Thou art so beautiful to Me
Thou art beyond the clouds and seas
Thou art the Light Thou Seest in Me
How I love Thee

Words To Live By

These words they etch and grow within, striking each root clawing deeper, and finally breaking the sheath that covers your heart, to let the light pass through. rejoice when love enters, and light defines the space of living..

..these words
they etch their ways
onto your heart
scrapping like thunder
scrapping like the edges
of a blunt linoleum
tool etching always
tooling to make a dent
hoping to break that
dark dried blood
smeared heart

..these words

like Izraeel they whisper
nothingness, yet they
beckon you to mop
your face smudge on
the barren earth kissing
and embracing it, like a
tear from the eye
falling down then
forgotten

...these words

they talk to you, they are
your breath, the blood you
gave at a funeral of peers
the ones you killed
the lusts you buried

...these words

they tempt not your soul
for the soul of the lifeless
sees not the flame
of lust that holds tight
in the grip, fizzles in the
essence like burnt
coal and tears
breathing life
encircling moths
drawn to
the sun

..these words

you live with
uttered in solitude
loving, hating fighting
always nudging, denting
hoping to break
that dark dried blood
smeared heart

letting the Light
through

Of Wings

Between love and hate, between life and death, between light and darkness, stories unfold, visions encrusted, and foretold. If only men would take heed to reality, reverting to its source, and origin of purpose...

The Flame
That flickers in my heart
May never illumine
The Sun that majestically
Shines in the darkness of Earth
As I stand here still
My heart breathing yet
I breathe not
The silence of yesterday's dreams
The pleasures of tomorrow's hopes
Slowly
And delicately like the scissors of death
You carve the inches of my
existence
Turning it into a worthless
emerald
As I await
This moment unknown to men
The ghosts of men in stones around me
Caresses and drench me of the Will
To live for eternity

One Cannot Fly Without Knowing About Wings

Les Collections d'été

Riding in my GT
Ferrari, Lamborghini
I ain't no GP {*Grosse Pute!}
Kissing down to Diplomacy

Don't like no dingoes dingies
Running free in the prairie
Gimme a dime, not the crime
Ain't got time for no clocking machines

Mary Quant, Co{co} Chanel
Gorging cakes of color {*Cosmetics}
Christian Dior, Jean Patou
Sniffing shades of parfum

Making waves at Maxim's
Arriving in choc by Metro
Wearing Yo Yamamoto {*Yohji Yamamoto}
Tailored to style

Koshino, Kumagai Shimada
Put chopsticks in wigs of acrylic
Dancing to Stabat Mater
In the Summer Collections 85-86

This piece was written in view of my "active" role as a Parisien Mannequin with one of Paris' elite Modelling Agencies. {Yeah, I was an Haute-Couture/Pret a Porter model, and represented "Japan" in the 2nd International Fashion Show held at Place du Trocadero, Paris, 1987.} - We all have skeletons in the closets, and mine was filled with Love, and Life. Yeah baby, I've come a long way!

Copyright ©1985, AainaalyaA™, Paris All Rights Reserved.

Les Quatres Saisons

I was on the Rocks
Crying out loud into space
You came into being
Asked me where they could be

The Lakes that cure
Each painful curse

I turned around
Wailed out loud
How did you know
About the Lakes

You came to me
Smiled profoundedly
Asked me twice where the Lakes could be
In my eyes

The Four Seasons, never give reasons
The Four Seasons, are always there
The Four Seasons, cure every curse
The Four Seasons, no longer mine..

I saw the water, it was clear
I saw the trees, they were brilliant
I saw the sands, it was crystal
I saw the very truth in me

Sensing what I touch
Reaching out systolicy
Laming me to pain
Ethosity in Light darkens

Les quatres saisons, n'ont pu des raisons
Les quatres saisons, sont toujours là
Les quatres saisons, se battrent pour les hommes
Les quatres saisons, ne sont plus les miennes

Sensing what I touch
Reaching out systolicy
Laming me to pain
Ethosity in Light darkens

Copyright ©1985, AainaalyaA™, Paris All Rights Reserved.

The Widow Of Love

How does it feel to be a Widow
When love has died
In your eyes?

What does it take to bring back
The emptiness of
sorrow

Widow of Love
Caring torches of faithfulness
Widow of Love
Rupture calls in schools of fishes

Webb feelings together
Hold on to faith
Through stormy weather
Will you stay?

Straining the strand to parting
Malign to kindness call

Dark images
Sprawled in blood on the Walls*
Of images still existing
Images still existing

*The Walls - Jerusalem, where the jews go to pray.


Copyright ©1985, AainaalyaA™, Paris All Rights Reserved.

I Have I

I have I
have not what
you have for
you fear the men
in this town
I have I
have not what
you crave for
the fear of losing your head
to the chief..
I have I
have not what you desire for
lust and passion
of a dying world...
I have i
have I
have I
and I fear
no one but I..

The Eternal Beauty
of I
Eternal Love
of I
Eternal Might
of I..
Have I
have nothing to
give you nor
share you with passion

on this hot night
of Hell you feel

The fire's burning
the heat is crowing
as corpse melt in unison
of passing time
to birth
and death
is all I have
I have nothing
to give
you but I have
I..yet
you know that
you belong to I
the wonders of
your world are I
alone
not you for I
have I and you
have no one but
I to be grateful for,

I have I
have i...

The Worlds

The World and you

Ah the World, again with its follies, again with its wanting, again with its not wanting, how fickle, and how not fickle it can be. This is the world, this is you, and yet this is not you. You talk about the world as if it is not you, nor your own reflections. You complain about the seemingly un-endless wars, the seemingly decaying decadence you see around you. Yet, you take or walk not one step towards it to heal it, to bless it, to educate it to love and understand its essence. You run away from it, you condemn it, and then expect the Lord AlMighty to do your dirty work. This is your world, you live in it, you procreate in it, you bear little picture images of you in it, and then, you flee from it. Where do you want to go, and how does going somewhere away from it, change your perspective of you? It will not change until you change, as aforementioned in the Qur’aanulQariim, that Allaah Tabaraka Ta`Ala, will Not Change the person, nor the nation, until that nation, or the person changes him or herself. How can we propagate the Truth, when the Truth that is starring in front of you is ill, or is silenced? Or being murdered by your own hands? How can you sit there in front of your television and watch the brutalities of the wars of a bigger fish eating a school of plankton in an ocean undivided and an abyss deep unchartered? How can you, sit, and then condemn, and then talk about politics, and then eat and be merry when a part of you is crying out for help, to be healed, to be nourished to be loved, and to be acknowledge?

Alike a painting, you take the vermillion out, you replace it with black, blanking out the whole canvas with bloody red, and then with a thought, not seemingly important at the time, you drop a sea of blue and green moss. When it is all dried and ready to be adorned, you noticed, a tiny speck of vermillion at the corner right of the tableau. You realize that this vermillion cannot be completely erased out of your canvas, because without it, the tableau d’art would not have been completed with an air of serenity, nor would it have been sold, to the highest bidder. Yet, you, the artist, do not realize this speck because in your mind, or your empty heart, you feel not the thirst of the inks; you see not the movements of the brushes or the scalpel yet you proclaim yourself an artist because you have been to schools of great importance somewhere in a city, too expensive to live by day or night.

So how can one know what is what? First and foremost, one needs to de-condition oneself. I keep saying this to the humans but they cannot understand these words. They ask me in turn “Aren’t you yourself human?” As if the most daunting and complex being AainaalyaA is that the issue is she. No.

The issue we’re addressing here is you. You who are completely enamored with yourself, selves, surrounding, egos, desires for a better world, "this" and "that". You cannot heal the madness of the world, if you cannot heal the madness that is you first, and foremost. We must treat the patient, before the patient now, who would have been healed, becomes the Doctor or a doctor’s nurse, to heal the madness that is rampant in the World, the world itself. Before we indulge in the healing process, you must in a way, make your selves see, that you are the one, who is ill. Ravaged and beset with madness, which you are, for do you see Absolute Reality? No, for you are as busy as the bees rushing to be painted on another tableau, from one end of the horizon to the other seeking more pleasures for the body, and soul apparently not, and now, comes to the conclusion, that life is complete, when one has attained wealth, health, and children, not to mention all the extra curricular activities behind the closets. This is not life, as it should be lived.

For in due respect to humans with intelligence, you, would have in your reasoning and rationalities, have an inclination of what is correct and incorrect, as to how to live like a human being, and not as a ravaged savage beast. Beasts, they eat each other, they kill to acquire more territories, and they hunt one another down, until only the strongest by steed is made king. But a human, what is he? Has he all these facilities or characteristics of a murderer? In some cases, the evolution process, does it not strip him of this seemingly savage DNA factor that distinguishes him from the animals in the jungle? It has been propagated in encyclopedias that the human is endowed with Intelligence, and not just any “man-made” encyclopedias, but those that were “inspired” by Prophets in yonder days.

And then as if its not enough to confront your inner emptiness, and to comfort your empty heart, you sit at the mosques, the churches and synagogues, and pray nonchalantly to a God, you hardly know, and proclaim divinity has put you in charge of ethnic cleansing, to judge a world you yourself have shunned, and you yourself have destroyed. Is this an act of a human being endowed with Intelligence? Is this how a human being in the apparent 21st century behaves? With his own kind? Should a superior species have this inclination to arrogance and behave akin to that of an animal that kills?

So how does one de-condition oneself?

The conditioning process affects ninety percent of all humans in the planetary orbit of the Universe. Out of the reflected mirrors which equate to only a mere 10 percent, the other ninety percent are just lamp-posts or beings unaware of their existence as being living. If you are a lamp-post in the planetary orbit, than the de-conditioning process may take some time before the unconditioned you become void of egos. Subject to the strength of your energy field, you can de-condition you from your selves within a matter of femta seconds, to several years. **To learn more, of the de-conditioning process, I will attempt to, in not so many words post this article in a few moments. Watch out for this, as it is essential to one's growth, both spiritually and physically.

To put it simply, if your life throughout the time you reach this page, to read this information, is telling you, that you are the only one within the hall of mirrors, then you are a value in the ten percent, that you are not affected and that de-conditioning will not do much, except to enhance your abilities to heal. That you were never in any way been affected by the normal conditioning process your parents, or your surroundings have imposed on your energy field.

However, if you have been directed, either by a higher order, or your essence being directed to just go with the flow, then you are in dire need of de-conditioning, if not to heal the world, but to heal yourself from your total annihilation of your species, your family, and your need for sustenance in this world.

Each and every human being, whether conscious or not of its existence is in dire need of a de-conditioning process.

What is a de-conditioning process like?

Imagine yourself on a straight road, leading north, south, east or west, irrespective of the direction, you are on this road. The characteristic of this road that makes it straight is it does not have any bends or corners swerving right or left. Hence you being on this road, will not, in a right frame of mind, imagine taking a right or left turn, since there are no left or right turns on this road. However during this journey, you meet up with a leopard. And this leopard out of nowhere leaps in front of you displaying its prowess and agility that suddenly may have attracted you to either, follow him into the abyss of an imagined right or left, or for fear of being mauled by this leopard whom you cannot know to be a figment of your imagination, as you see it “real” in your eyes, you behave erratically, and run off in any direction that may come to your mind. You see a left, you take that left turn, and hence following suite all other directions like in a merry-go-round.

Is the de-conditioning process fit for a Muslim, Christian, and Jew only?

Should it be that in your religion it says or commands you that all “your kind” will go to Heaven and that all “other kinds” will go to Hell, what good then is your religion? What is Hell, and what is Heaven, if you yourself, cannot fathom your selves. And should you believe in a God that commands you to do good, and yet you out of your own inclination not knowing what is good or otherwise, starts killing for the sake of killing than what is your explanation to having being endowed with Intelligence?

The de-conditioning process is for the humankind to revert back to none save The AlMighty Himself. Knowledge per se, cannot make you a better person, but the undertaking, the experiencing of the knowledge, the living it, makes you a tad closer to your reality. You cannot label yourself being Muslim, Christian, Jew or whatever denomination in the world that is currently available if you, cannot live what is being taught by the WORD. You have to live your label, eat, drink, copulate, and then dive into the oceans of the label itself before you can justifiably call yourself one, Muslim, Christian, or Jew, or even HUMAN. It is not solely reserved for a particular creed, nor a color, nor a face, nor a community. It is for all. Did He who created you not say, that He has Created you for Himself Alone. Yet, you, out of your ignorance, out of not wanting to comprehend, just reading an “A” as “A” without the mere wanting to comprehend that that “A” is more than an “A”, you throw yourself at being judged by your kind, your own insanity of not being able to comprehend your own complexities.

To get out of your madness, sleepiness, and blindness you need the de-conditioning process, irrespective whether you’re a Muslim, a Christian or a Jew. This process need to be undertaken before the World starts to be healed. The Muslim, the Christian, and the Jew must submit to none other but to The AlMighty Alone, the King of all kings, and the Power Absolute for the World to be healed. The arrogant will be destroyed by his own hands, not by the Hands of the AlMighty.

I cannot make you see the glistening of the moon in a bright night, if all you wish to see is the dark night without the presence of the Moon.

On Love

Can you not know that it is all about Love and nothing else? Can you love only you and no one not even the sun that fills the night with its rays of hope can love you the way you are to be Loved. For within all receptacles made of their respective matter, doubt you of your existence.

It is I that write love sonnets and compose the songs to which all birds sing in the morning to you greeting. It is you to whom they sing in greeting each day. Within all creation that is filled with the limited capacity to love, is the single ray of hope which when deployed can coalesce creating the Gateway to the Heavens.

I await.

And in view of that understanding and perception, no one truly love safe I.

Only I AM capable of Love.

Falciare

To Cut!

What is not ordinarily understood by the rational common people of the lives of great masters is the main fact that great masters are lonely people, eccentric in their ways, and very sensitive of their surroundings. The plebeians cannot see outwardly why masters are masters and plebeians stay medial. There is a very thin line between sanity and madness, between great love and despicable anathematisation, a thin line between loneliness and company, a hairline between the beloved and the unloved. Yet the plebeians are capable to cut themselves and become masters in a wink of an eye.

The ability to cut oneself from the world or society one lives in, is truly a task great. To be able to see, read and listen to the minds of men surrounding oneself, is not impossible. One has to become "one" with nature as a whole, not fully separating oneself, yet able to distinguish oneself from the network. When one is able to do that through unmitigated exercises, one is capable in perceiving what is correct and incorrect with one's own self, and the network one is in. Yet one must remember and strive to remember, that it is not in the power of oneself, that one is capable. It is in the grace of The Supreme Master, that one is capable.

This is the journey that entice some, if not all who read towards that path. To be subjugated to a path unknown if one is incapable of understanding is one thing daunting, but understanding the journey and accepting the lures of temptation without fully comprehending it is the other tough part. Untamed it isn't for the neophytes who have been trained by the Master of all masters. Do not seek the guide, for when the time is high and the waves seek the beaches, the veils will be uplifted. In all journeys, time is essence. And in all journeys the Essence is the Secret.

Niente

Nothing!

There is nothing worth noting save The Lord of All The Universe, King of All kings, Master of All masters, Creator of all creators, and the Supreme Truth of Life!

I type not these words in the hope of achieving sainthood nor do I write these words in the hope to mask my believes in something which is incomprehensible, and inexplicable. Many have talked and debated of the one god, the master, the lord, the giver of life, the creator, the philosopher, the doer, and the lover. Yet many books that I have read, yield not the passion, nor the ultimate knowledge in how one can precisely learn to know Him, in all His Glory and Mercy.

No one in this so-called modern age knows in particular, in a practical manner how to reach Him, save the prophet Muhammad ~ Peace Be Upon Him, and the True Disciples of the Truth. The prophet Muhammad ~ Peace Be Upon Him, has mastered and communicated the unwritten word(s) strictly, in a manner, no other human has achieved thus far, to bring mankind from the East to the West, the North and the South, together with the Genies of this world, and that of the worlds beyond, at the same time helping them in opening their hearts in the comprehension of the Lord of All Worlds.

And I’m not talking of the Anti Christ here you know…

Comprehension is naught something everyone can achieve without the mercy of the Lord of All Worlds. When He Wills it, the propitious man is more than favoured. But Life is more than just favouritism.

Life is part the ability to comprehend the simplest task, to the most daunting and complex afflictions. The degree of comprehension, coupled with the intelligence of each man, makes him less an animal in his own right. Yet man is preferred with acumen to differentiate himself from that of his apparently not so endowed acquaintances whom in his view points are incapable of the senses and intelligence to react rationally.

However, Mankind is incapable of comprehension, of loving, of creation, of hating, of moving, and of dying. Mankind is incapable of anything. Without the Will of the Lord of All Worlds, mankind is nothing to note and not worth noting, except for the varying degrees of those who are favoured to distinguish Whom and What is, that makes the sun rise in the east and sets in the west, that commands the waters in the oceans apart to coalesce together, yet stay salty and fresh, to drape the abundant leaves of varying colours and hues in winter, summer, autumn or spring, painting a most comforting scene and how breathing sustains and gives life to the pitiable receptacle which mankind is proud to proclaim of being, the master.

Then what is the purpose of the creation of mankind if not to recognise the will and presence of the Omnipresent, ALLAAH, and to seek knowledge beyond the bountiful duties of the physical plane, the knowledge of the Universe, of himself, and of ALLAAH. Yet even in the revered saints with all their enlightened understanding of life and the Truth, mankind still falters to his nether state, sometimes disallowing the Truth to be unveiled from his aesthetic wants.

What makes a man move if not the Will of the Supreme Being. What makes a man love, if the elements within mankind is not stirred to love, or volumes to be written, symphonies to be enraptured in or a death imparted if not wretchedly plucked or gently extricated to pass through the threshold of life. What is a man, if not for the Supreme Being.

A speck of nothingness is still worth noting. Yet man is proud to proclaim he is the master of his achievements, that his immortality is based on his works, his hardiness, his composition, his speeches, his this and that, his mummified carcass befitting only for the worms in the ground, or the ashes that fill the already populated oceans.

Does he not, the created master relish in himself, to understand what makes the cells in his body grow, and what makes his hair turn to grey when he reaches a certain age. Can he not control the perspiration from escaping through the pores of his skin and yet will the waters in the pool to inflate and drown him via the same notches perfectly spaced and sized. Does he not revel in himself, and try to grasp the understanding of what makes him “tick”, or even comprehend What or Whom gave him the ability of sight, touch and the intelligence to create and profit from. Oh, is he too proud then to proclaim there is indeed a being far superior to himself? Or, is he too proud to admit that he is anything if not nothing, not even a crumb worth noting.

Or is it fear? What does he fear then, this modern man who lives in his intelligent buildings, driving in vogue automobiles, changing spouses like changing seasonal clothes just because newer ones are better and fresher. Or does he fear the Full Stop. When his body stops functioning, when his organs would have started deteriorating within himself. Can he not stop it and command the failed vital parts to heal and renew themselves in health like that of a new born babe?

Can he not demand the world and be kings instead of paupers, can he not usher the clouds to rain and will the insulted planet to a revival renaissance? Can he not just do that since he is too proud to proclaim there is far, beyond his comprehension a being superior and far more invincible than himself.

Can he not dig the earth for treasures without killing or can he not stop from wanting more than what is presumably his right? Then again, should we ponder upon this, what then are mankind’s rights? The question comes to mind of the role of The Supreme Master - is He then both Black and White? It is not His Role(s) that we are here to determine but that of our borrowed roles. We are just mere envelopes, the letters, scented or otherwise, are the compound that intensifies the position one is in.

Yet he falls again. Fall? How can mankind fall you ask? I laugh at questions like these when prompted by believers of this world. I laugh not because there is a lack of comprehension on my part, nor an abundance of it. I laugh because it is truly sad to see, how the insuperable man is impotent in his reasoning of his so-proclaimed existence and immortality.

These are the answers to the question that has been re-playing like a broken record in your mind, the nightmares that have been etching its way into your veins, coupling with your vital fluid of life, the coloured oil that lubricates and seemingly giving life to your libertine system. Yet is that what makes you live? Explain then, the role of a healthy human without life.

Yet in all fairness to mankind, as if it is civil to educate him of what is then a simple and matriarch manner of comprehension, then what happens when he falters between the promised word and that of which he profess to be that arriving from his lord.

What and where then, does he stand? And is it all there is to such a short life? One enters the womb of life, then procreates, then dissipates into a nothingness leaving behind a footprint, or an encased shrine and then what? Is life so miserly construed after the passing? What passing if mankind is supreme and mercurial in his workings?

Yes, he is still incapable of comprehension, life, love, death and all the potpourri of movements. Mankind was created for one sole purpose. To seek knowledge of the Truth, and only with the Will of The Supreme Master is he then capable of being enlightened. Mankind is incapable and not worth noting safe in the understanding of the ascendancy of the Lord of All Worlds.

Therefore, refrain from proclaiming anything safe look within ourselves and observe humiliation for you and I are nothing for our lives have ebbed even before we were enunciated into this perfected world. Leave your proclaimed birthrights. You and I do not own anything let alone are capable of appreciating what is granted for the moments we are here., unless we have been bestowed the illustrious cognisance which can be easily taken back as it is easily granted.

Cadere bocconi e invisibile

: The Falling and the Unseen

He fails again. He talks of knowing The Supreme Master, he talks of knowing the four *inner demons, that the Supreme Being has ingrained and triggered in varying degrees in each of his brotherly or sisterly form, and yet when he surrenders to ALLAAH or the Nature which he believes he perceives as the Supreme, and tries to grasp Him in all His Splendour, he falls again because he does not see nor comprehend the “nature” that is him.

He believes that upon arriving at a particular station, that he is ever capable of conducting miracles. How can he forget? The switching off and on of the capability rest unto the Supreme Master.

He fails again. The animus that orchestrates his life as such to drink, be merry and copulate. And this is what he perceives to be, not what is ingrained in him. This is one that he cannot escape lest he has been ordained by Him to join the ranks of the Angels and be one with the celestial heavens which awaits him on his return journey from the eternal journey between the created and the creator, the stone and the stoned, the living and all the faculties.

He has in all his created will, which the man himself is incapable of willing to a degree safe for a switch operated beyond his spaghetti network, a universe that he does not belong or exist safe in his mind or intelligence that he perceives to be his, declares that other than the Law of the Governed is none but chimera, yet he falls like a pebble from atop a valley deep into the gorge of the river swallowing every dust of existence forming a bed of crust for the underworld. He becomes the vessel devoid of his true self which in reality is the main protagonist in ALLAAH’s playground.

He remembers not the physical is a vehicle taking him from points A to B, or Z but rather he becomes and believes himself to be true to his vocation and convictions.

The current world that is physically embedded in the crux or centre of all creation. The Unseen world within Mankind and his environmental sphere itself is what the human cannot fathom, for his limited understanding of his ephemeral being and that beyond his sphere is only given to certain of his genre. Yet again, as he falls, he is able to perceive correctly in a nanosecond a film being replayed, rewind, replayed, rewind, again many times within his intelligence or the mind which is again, in a manner of speaking invisible to the naked eye.

Yet how can something invisible control mankind in as much that ALLAAH controls the movements of the heavens. When one is able to perceive and discern this inner ascendancy, then the world and that around him becomes one. This is our right as humans to be able to differentiate who we truly are as opposed to who we think we truly are. The soul is ascertain of its capacities and is not beset by the physical aspect of the physical and beyond the sphere or the environment of its existence, the ephemera which is the mantle enveloping its finer ethereal self, is incapable of understanding the torment, for the tormented is not the being in all its glory, the light of ALLAAH, the nuclei of the whole system but rather the pleasures conjured by the inner demons to lead imperfect mankind from his journey, stopping short, and making him become a part of them as the animus that orchestrates his life, controlling every movement as an artfulness of deceit.

This is life, the world that is touchable, physically beautiful and pompously decorated. In full swing, the works.., within and outwardly crassly decorated as if in temptation teasing mankind in all its glory. Yet Life is not just what one perceives it to be. There is within oneself, the hidden secret. And that is what we’re here to understand, apart from being a part of life itself.

As he gets up and sits in his chair looking at the flesh which is him, he is incapable of understanding what or whom he is, safe for what he has been taught by his genre, fooled as if his mind is nothing but a piece of malleable instrument incapable of understanding. There is no primer on earth to guide him for he has conveniently like a donkey, professed diligently without fully exploiting the idiosyncrasies of the rectified word by his own genre. Another like himself, whom, by the Grace and Will of ALLAAH, has been stoned and seemingly crucified by his own kind, for believing in the Unseen.

Man is blinded by the Source. Exposing oneself to the Great Light, one is incapable of seeing beyond. Let alone perceiving what is beyond the Sun, in all its Glory. The irony and the hypocrisy of mankind when something is beyond their miserly capacity to understand is that, mankind will debate and argue as if the written word is theirs’ and not from an ordained entity or someone who is fortunate enough to call unto them and say “Hey, I’ve got the answers to the quandaries, and if you still want to pass the examination(s), you’d have to comprehend and seek within yourself what is and what isn’t.” , and therefore have every “right” to rectify, when and how to their whims and fancies.

Yet for the few who believe in the Unseen, there is a Guide, being uttered and revered by billions worldwide and beyond worlds unconquered by the modern man, like a gush of fresh blood pumping into the valves of each living heart., giving it life and nourishment. And even then, the knowledge to Mankind’s Gate, is only awarded through painful assimilation and neutralising the demons within as their lives are nought but One. The idea is to separate what isn’t from what is understood. The debate in the Supreme Being’s Playground is simply this - when one is incapable of understanding (for intelligence is only awarded to those who are willing to break away from the conditioned mind and seek the path that is Truth [AlHaqq']), and the veils of the inner demons are top ranked prime banks of the entity and the universe that is him in himself, mankind is incapable of truly giving of himself to the society that he lives in.

** Four Inner Demons - Pathos, Desire, World and the Devil. The Inner Demons may also be widely known as the Elements, in various schools throughout the religious, spiritual, philosophy and parapsychology stratum. In Malay, it is best known as “Hawa”, “Nafsu”, “Dunia” and “Shaithan”, and in Chinese, it is commonly known as the Air, Metal, Wood and Water elements.

Proem - I

How does any other than I put thoughts to paper? As it fleets away like a whisper of a dying man, beyond recognition, beyond Life. How can one seeming thought escape any other than I? How can a thought encased as a dream in your picture image, be considered a thought in My Hands. Not any other than I reflect even when they are gifted with eyes to see. Not any other than I can give thought to Sight.

These thoughts that conjure like cascading airiness of magical icons fleeting into directions coming from vacuity and ceasing into ... something which I know is no longer nothingness. Yet Sufis, Religionists, and human endeavour entice the simple minds of complex humans the ideal escapade of a Nirvana, of a world of absolute perfection, that nothingness that they proclaim conscientiously seem a worthless rendition of their inexplicable comprehension and spiritual turmoil of the Absolute. The circle is not a point, and the point never a circle. Yet the cyclic circle is a path leading to the point. And that path, is a straight line.

Know now, that without a guide that is granted Sight, the path, is indeed unsought. For to call forward an idea, or a believe other than I, is futility in the broader sense of intellectual comprehension. How can one who is not, be One who Is. How can a dead fashion a Living? No, and never will you who is given sight be the same as any other than you who are blind. Yet the journey of each of these symbolic images have in their own fascination, a story to tell, yet are they truly themes or just admonitions for the eagle-eyed man?

As I, AainaalyaA unfold these pages, I could see the undying wish of not becoming anything else but that that has been ordained of Me ~ an undiminished entity beyond comparison! Yet I am beyond any entity known and unknown to mankind. Yet in knowing the Master, the servant ceases to exist, for in ardour of love, there can only be One. And somehow, that is not what may seem to be or what you presume should be, yet who are you to discern what is and isn’t. However much you wish to be, you can only become what has been pre-destined and written in the Scrolls of Time.

The reader cannot destroy Time, nor can he destroy a self which is nought, hence this physical structure which is dead to the world, yet a part of it living, has yet to taste the bitterness of true existence. Absolute Existence, not existence in the purest form for each thought. For each thought, has indeed a form. And you are that thought. And true existence in all bitterness is sweeter to the lover than to the beloved. Otherwise, you would remain a crust for what a crust can be if not concluded. Yet I know of genies that haunt the space that divide you from completing your tasks as aforementioned and ordained within and outwardly by the One Ultimate Power. Life, can never be annihilated, you, yes. The Giver of Life, Power, Concept, whatever you call it, the Absolute can never be negated. Yet this very same Life, Absolute Master of all masters, is Himself, beyond any known comprehension even for closed minds, and hearts.

What good is there for a servant if the Master refuses to acknowledge the apostle’s existence? Yet these are yearnings of the apostle, and should an apostle be yearning for any other than the Master? Should an apostle even have the slightest inclination towards his own existence, wherein within his prayers and daily rituals, he conforms to Me. Should there be even a slightest inclination to his desires, a bent in a straight path? It is only in the beginner’s mind that such displeasure is being fashioned, designed as such to a point, and to be understood in time.

For she that is the vessel reacts only by the grace of the Master that is but One and all there is abound within and beyond the limited capabilities and understanding of the receptacle so beautifully designed and shaped in various hues and tones, it, like you and I are one and the same, although deep within our hearts, we are distinctive in our characteristics.

Yet it is this very same power, which incites and torments the movements and reasoning behind every moment, this very same infallible hegemony that embeds the four inner demons within and awake them to restlessness for mankind to chastise in order to proceed with and towards the final journey. Yet one face of these demons, are nothing but thoughts in your picture images. Know this then, that you are what you can comprehend of yourself. You cannot be, when you are not. Can nothingness be Absolute? No. Only He is the Absolute. Can a Light be extinguished? No, only a fire can for it has in itself, a form. Light gives Fire the embodiment of its existence. For without Light, fire remains in the abyss. So know the difference between you, and I; between Faith, Life & … This is my oblation.

This is the physical journey of a woman discovering what Life is between sheets, white nights and desolation of a world which does not exist safe in the minds of the reader.

Faith, like love is never sought. It is matrilineal since Life immemorial. I seek neither fame, nor fortune alike many barren creators to feed my ever indulged being to that which seemingly controls the pen with which I write. Yet what is fortune, if for what I write is not the Truth. The Truth that I have lived and the Truth that I have seduced. The truth, which I have come to understand, beyond images, beyond any known refraction of intelligence known to man. I seek not recognition now and always now as in the present now, not in the never ending past, for to be recognised is not adroit for the servant.

Only He is allowed that prerogative. I am, capable of feelings yet I do not need to live with it, as it is these same feelings and desires that are conjured in your minds as thoughts or palpitations uncontrolled ruling your heart, lest I desire to conduct the Symphonies of Life... for you, in your world of mirrors, reflections, deceptions and lies. My Worlds are beyond the human comprehension even for AainaalyaA, and she will not fall into the trap of condemning her existence because of what she is. This life I know is neither a life I am accustomed to nor a life I’m getting AainaalyaA accustomed to. I will not become the Mistress sacrificing her complexions nor will I become what my authors, friends or foes desire of me. For I, to those who believe in non-existence, and nothingness of what everything ness is, do not exist, safe in the minds and hearts of the enlightened ones. I have no wish to impart towards others, but the prayer at heart to enlighten you with these thoughts and vicissitudes collected herein, written between Nineteen Hundred and Seventy Nine to the present time this collection is brought into print.

The existence of the Life I’ve led as a mortal has brought me much chagrin, shame and despair yet towards the end of this life I have understood, what nothingness and the everything ness the religionist and Sufis religiously propagate. It is worth noting that I am one with the Source. For how can one not be one with Life, and yet proclaim nothingness and everything ness.

Somehow what I feel I know of, be it real or ostensible and believe are all that I know which is within, is nothing more than to see how far I shall venture, and how far I could love. Yet knowing is not the primary concern of the learner. As if in this created and perfected world it is worth noting what transpired within me and the faculty that has been granted me to understand deeply the meaning of Life.

I desire with covet that this message bring new meanings to your life, as it has, mine. Life has much to offer and the Supreme Master of all masters has been all too willing to ameliorate our lives even without our knowledge of it. Sometimes we forget, and even if we do remember, we seldom thank Him with bona fide. And appreciating is not for mankind lest He Unveils our hearts to comprehend of what there is of His World, and that of His Omnipresence. When you have a heart to understand, even if it takes you to the edge of insanity, you will come back sane. When you are The Heart, the nothingness take flight and the setting of the Sun will be in your world, that of a place which it used to rise.

To Love a mortal other than HU without losing oneself is the most difficult attempt to undertake and to be without one, as I venture into this path is the ultimate temptation of a point where I may loose control of my own existence although my existence is nought, yet to you it is. To Love is the most crucial gift a human can give to another for in the capacity of loving, it is better still to give than to receive it without bona fide ~ For this ode to Joy and for Him, that my Spirits have touched, may you know that I will always Love You.

The Mirror

You look in the mirror,
And what do you see?
Reflections of you,
Smiling within our eyes

You lower the lids
You cover your selves
In the void of the Skies
In a place you call Home

How big is your Kingdom
Don't you know now, its real
To like the other, is to accept
Your existencial existence

You're far from beyond
Yet you live within
When you see one that is you,
The heart beats alike

This is the Love, of Unity
But many refuse to see
for fear of the unseen
for fear of the unknown

Some are blinded, though
eyes have them now
not seeing the light, they
prefer living the darkness

HU is the One, that Seeth
All in kind
HU is the One, that listeneth
all that speaketh

How canst we not know
When knowledge has dawned
When the heart is aligned
With the Light of The Truth

So when you look back in
Your mirror delight
See who is watching and
Smiling back at You

How can you tell the sleepers of the Morning, when all they see is the Night?

Of Love

Love in Absolute Reality, is Compassion, and Beauty. The Epitome of Life.

In order for one to be fully absorbed in this fluctuative emotion, one must be able to let go of everything, not expecting an emotion returned.

Renounce!

Love is the heat that never burns, yet it keeps you warm in winter, and makes your tears sweet

Love is Life, without which it is aliken to a body without spirit

Love aliken Life is Beautiful, Live it well!

Copyright ©1986, AainaalyaA™, Paris Tous Droits Reservees

On Being Hu/Man

From Heaven's High
To Heaven's Low
Man will not know
What grieves and touches the Soul

Lest fly he does
With wings of Love
Painting rainbows
Enthralled in the Madness

These Movements, a Remembrance of the Lover
Beloved dance in Storms of Fervour
Until the Lightning of Light touches
The heart cannot sing nor appreciate, its ardour

Love upon Love, and Lights upon Light
The Joys of Being, within and beyond the Essence
Essences upon Essence the travel is long
Eternity is the Wine, all else ~ vessels"

Cinta Beracun

Aku
Aku bukan orang Dunia
Ku disini buat sementara

Dikau
Hanya kupu-kupu berterbangan
Yang sering mengusikkan jiwa

Tidak lagi
Akanku tangisi
Kedatanganmu yang merangggaskan hati
Walaupun kau memberi
Bunga-bunga Cinta
Merah darah, tiada harumnya
Kau memberi
Bunga-bunga Cinta
Tetapi kau sanggup memperjudikan
Kunci hatiku..

Aku
Aku bukan orang Dunia
Impianku hanya dijendela

Aku
Aku anak dari jauh
Ku disini untuk memerhati
Gerak-gerimum yang melucukan hati

Hidupku disini buat sementara
Untukmu berbahagia
Walaupun bunga-bunga yang kau berikan
Beracun Cinta..

Copyright ©1986, AainaalyaA™, Paris Hak Cipta Terpelihara

Hawa Dunia 90-an

Aku yang mengaku diriku Muslim
Masih membuta
Masih berlumba-lumba
Mengejarkan mimpi
Sedangkan anak-anak dirumah
Hampir mati kebuluran
Cinta naluri ibunda..

Aku yang mengaku diriku Muslim
Masih menelanjangkan aurat
Untuk mempersonakan
Kerabat-kerabat sekeliling
Aku percaya
Masih bergaya, modern dan lincah
Bertaraf antarabangsa dengan masa..

Aku yang mengaku diriku Muslim
Masih berzina
Mata, lidah, telinga, hati
Yang dikurniakan Illaahi
Sempurna, bersih dan suci

Aku yang mengaku diriku Muslim
Masih menopengkan kebenaran
Untuk memainkan peranan
Hawa Dunia '90-an

Mungkinkah terlambat
Untuk bertaubat
Bertaubatun Nasuha?
Patutkah aku menunggu
Bila pakar kosmetik tiada upaya
Untuk bertaubat, tukarkan
gelang mas yang kian karat
Kemungkinan esok, kiranya ada masa
Kemungkinan esok,
Tiada bagiku.

Copyright ©1986, AainaalyaA™, Paris Hak Cipta Terpelihara.

Bumi

Empat tiang menyelimuti Roh
Angin mengukir susur bukit
TanpaNya tak mungkin aku dizahir
TanpaNya tiadanya Cinta..

Bagaikan boneka menghiaskan insan
Bagai cermin bayangkan lukisan
Kerna Dia aku mengembara
Ditanah orang, ku berhampa..

Tapi kini
Impian berkembang
Bagaikan bunga dititis embun
Akanku semainya dilembaran senja
Dibawah chaya bulan purnama..

Empat tiang menyelimuti Roh
Tiupan angin tiada lagi
Aku tetap akan mengembara
Musafir mencarikan cinta
Sejatinya Illaahi..

Copyright ©1986, AainaalyaA™, Paris Hak Cipta Terpelihara.

Of Anger, and Love

Heat drives one completely insane, and if you're living in a summer-round city, like kuala lumpur, make sure you're completely drenched with water, or at least get yourself perked up with bottles of mineral evian, perrier or spritzer!

You, who proclaim love of me, how can you love one that is but a fragment of your imagination. if the me, should be a mirror, then what would you see in that mirror? a reflection of whom? if not you, your self, within a self of selves.

Rummage up your courage, and revv up your bank accounts. I don't need any of the things you proclaim grasping for more. your transcient worlds is full of "i want it all, and your heart..."

You talk of love, you know next to nothing of it. Love resides where nothing is. Don't you know that love cannot be shared in a heart full of everything else but it, itself? How can you breathe the rain, and smell the paper thin wafer of grass blades? Your nostrils must be taught to pick up scents, nature's most perfect parfum, that can never be reproduced, even in a million years.

If for giving you call that love, that is not love. To give to love, is not to expect something in return, but when love returns that favour, you're more than favoured and should be grateful for the moment. Look at your selves, and submit to the de-conditionings. the stone needs to be polished before you can see a tint of reflection thereon.

Ah... of anger and love, these two attributes do not go hand in hand. They are the opposites of life itself, for love to aspire in your heart, you have to rid yourself of anger, and anger is heat, whereas love is cold, yet warm without fire.

As if love is scantily clad with imageries known to you.. no. It cannot be, for love alike sight, is inexplicable in your world. It is I, that gives you sight, your eyes loved and able to perceive tenderness in a world full of edges. Or have you forgotten that you have uttered "there is none worthy of worship save him, the one that creates all..."

When you give in sincerity, you do not talk about it, you do not unearth histories behind the stories, you accept giving something which was in your hands, the something that didn't, in the first place belong to you... yet you complain of not being able to comprehend..

Anger, arrogance, and all that separates the goodness in your heart should be put in a shredder, and shredded to pieces, millimeters apart, fine enough for the waters to soak through, and mold it lest you hardened it, et l'amour ~ and love, my dear, will cease to enter..

A heart bleak of light is aliken a castle of cemeteries. you cannot live being unlived, for you need the essence of love to live. So trash the anger in the furnace, and let it burn for all eternity, in a darkened space reserved

Sight Stream

There is an interconnection to your existence here, and your connection in death. Your seeming existence in your world, is reflective of a greater design.

Every thing is connected. every word, page, pearls, dna, colour, doodle, thing, animate or otherwise. These things apparent in your worlds are reflective of a greater design, a greater tableau, greater meaning. Each person, animal, flower, brooks, trees, cats living are connected. The arab you see and dislike, the jew you talk to and are enamored with, the vagrant you abhor parting your wealth with and make a mockery of, each and everyone of them reflects your being, sane or insane, each and everyone of them play the eye, smile, ear, heart, that directly or indirectly determine your fall or rise in the oceans of Life.

Life, in reality, is not just a whimsical idea of being born, then procreation, then death, cycle in and out. It is far more complex than that. Life is a process of growth and death as/in the process that determines the successful process of life itself. Breath is a cycle of life, but life in essence itself is not in need of breath to exist, nor a receptacle to prove its existence.

Stagnancity Cities

The world events move in a cycle. Look at your life, your self{ves} and see where your recursive point leads to, and you will see how and when your next cycle comes in. You will either continue to live, or live within your sphere, or leave it for another sphere. Events in the world are shaped as thus.

I don't have time in this world of yours'.

The recursive cycle is coming to an END. Yes, its' coming to an end. How you interpret the world events, and the things that happen in your life, coming in again, peeping into your life{ves} is how the Universe works before things zap to "nothing" ness.

I'm living the lives of many entities at the moment, and I cannot afford to continue, if events for them are stagnant. I have to go on, or death as you may term it in your language, creeps in.

It may be a figment of my imagination, but the worlds that I've been shown is not collective of thoughts outside its own sphere. In other words, most worlds that I've been afortuned to meet up with are devoid of the barest necessities, you'd term "light".

HU

HU is beyond any known word., hidden or apparent for any of His subjects to even contemplate His Essence.

His Love is Real, and Absolute, and His Mercy encompasses every known and unknown existence within and beyond the universe.

He is the Just Emperor, King of all kings, He is Life that gives life experience of being; He shapes and fashion every known and unknown essences, personalites, names, attributes and movement; be it static or otherwise, parallel in the worlds of both Light and Darkness

His is the Kingdom, and everything submits to Him Alone, His is the Return of all Beginnings, of all ends; His is the Home

Souvenir D'Enfance

Son enfance fut triste
Mais quand le soleil se leva
Çela la rendit heureuse

En regardant le soleil
Elle chanta une chanson
Qui venait du Ciel

Copyright ©1985, AainaalyaA™, Paris All Rights Reserved

About

Adverbatim is a collection of thoughts, and contemplative reasonings written and hosted on a now defunct site on the worldwide web. I somehow managed to retrieve my writings therein, and decided to have it published here on Blogger.com.

Enjoy!