Written

"The pens have been lifted and the ink has dried." Prophet Muhammad [At-Tirmithi]

Every time im struck with the pain of breaking out of the deluding strums of this world. I read what I wrote the last time I was there. Its like writing all those times in my life I had unknowingly defined the pattern for my destiny. Those writings/tales not just contain inside them experiences from my past but surprisingly my future too. For every new happening it feels I dont need to tell a new story. The old stories suffice fairly. It is as if I have lived all there is to life in those first few iterations of the cycle of my life. Yet for every new delusion I feel as happily imbecilic as before and for every new closure to it I feel even more deteriorated.

"And Allah wants to lighten for you [your difficulties]; and mankind was created weak." ~Quran (4:28)

From Loneliness to Solitude

Picture by Aks Pixels

At a time when an ailment/calamity expires your body and nerves, everyone leaves you. Every human master will comprehend it to be a disobedience. Every human lover will comprehend it to be an infidelity. For people only have a taste for things that are all fixed. For people are more stubborn about hating than loving.

تو بچا بچا کے نہ رکھ اسے ، تیرا آئنہ ہے وہ آئنہ

کے شکستہ ہو تو عزیز تر ہے نگاہ آئنہ ساز میں 

اقبال ~

You're left alone to confront your worst fears. Once you learn to embrace them patience falls to your rescue. Loneliness transforms into solitude. It is then you realize that the unrest overwhelmed your senses, only because you didn't want everyone to leave you alone; only because you couldn't let go of everything that never wanted to be yours.

 جو میں سر بہ سجدہ ہوا کبھی، تو زمین سے آ نے لگی صدا 
تیرا دل تو ہے صنم آشنا، تجھے کیا ملے گا نماز میں 

اقبال ~