Memoirs of a Solitary Mind by Mahinda Vito

8/8/2019 Memoirs of a Solitary Mind by Mahinda Vito

1/62


2/62

I stay eluded, haunted by the vastness of eternity as

the night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

If life is not a journey, is it a destination?

We draw maps for fear of getting lost: but yet

still we get lost all the time, and still we can't stop drawing

Oh how we run from the things we need, just as the sun

devours the skies with bright light at every beautiful dawn.

Dressed in the last gleams of the day, the infinite horizons of a spotless

mind all flash with thin laughter

I feel now like I am delivering someone else's speech,

tormented by a sense of loss for something I have never had

and it is now so close to me, the butterfly dances of the moon

remind me of what I came here to tell you, to share with you.

Time blows through us all through this journey my brethren

from the first step to the last, feeding darkness with light; we burn till we

die, like all stars. So I whisper my song, not to the sensual ear but to the

stars. The stars have been playing theirs to me for millions of nights.

O how can I envy the lighthouse keeper, who observes and is not observed.

A deep self hidden from the soul, a shadow dressed in my same clothes.

So I wonder, if I never dream will I ever die? If I roll back my eyes will the

dreams go back? My eyes are eyes are too near, and so far away. Every step

can be taken at any point in any direction without changing the course ofthe journey, sends my minds racing a mile that maybe only clocks are alive.

You tell me my friend. Is meaning what we have or what we search for?

Well how can the owl's night bound eyes reveal the mysteries of light?

Only when we drink from the river of silence do we truly sing.


3/62

Take this silver lining

Shine it when the night is turning.

Born so alive with wild hopes now tell me why.

Time after time they drag you down

Folks, fools and their madness all around

Know that the light don't sleep

Take the silence in your own

Two hands and sprinkle it like diamonds

All across the skies another wrinkle on your forehead

Another promise is broken

So, will you not close your eyes?

This is your life and today is all youve got now

And today is all youll ever have.

Yesterday is a kid around the corner

Yesterday is dead and over

This is your life, are you who you want to be?

This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be?

When the world was younger and you had everything to lose.

Dont close your eyes dreams are just flashes of light.

Only things worth living for are Innocence and magic of moments.


4/62

Smoke curls through my hands

the morning goes and all I see are

Crowds in the rain passing me by.

The prettiest thing my sight ever sought,

that glance in the crowd that I wish was mine

So fast it passed me by with somewhere else to be.

A picture hanging on someone elses wall

The torn smile doesnt bother me.

all hope lost, all faith is gone,

Like fingers of wind undressing my mind

Each word from my tongue slips as moments fly

memories lost, Taking you further away

And from a distance that day comes

and I realize there is no easy way

of shedding the painful tear.

Now am feeling a piece of sun

burning like a coin in my hand.

If you forget me do not look for me,

I shall already have forgotten the sight.

Tears, oh those silent tears

When no-one's there to see or hear

The sobs of a heart Rolling down my eyes,

Twisted with sorrow and bliss,Oh it rains tears from the heavens.


5/62

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;So many things seem filled with the intent

To be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the flusterOf lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:Places, and names, and where it was you meant

To travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! My last, orNext-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,Some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gestureI love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

The art of losing's not too hard to masterThough it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop


6/62

I glory in this world of man and woman, torn with troubles yet living on to

love and laugh through it all. Should any feeling but love and infinite

compassion fill our hearts for all who live? A person should learn that

there is both good and bad in all men and in all things and who deal with

lifes circumstances, but anyway what is a weed but an unloved flower.

Humanity should learn a lesson; in unconditional love it not only includes

others but ourselves too.

I glory in this life that I live; its intricacies just keep on eluding me. The

good things in it are like quicksilver, clutch them and they dart, leave the

fingers open-they are whole and beautiful, so you wonder how you cease

the moment and hold it with your fingers wide open.

I glory in this life, this world so full of imperfections, yet fairest of them all

a world so full of tough decisions and endless auditions. Wake up in the

morning and you got to run or youll be eaten and run to eat, doesnt

matter anyways, by break of dawn got to be running. Well, am here for the

sake of another-for those upon whose smile and well being and my

happiness depends upon, and also for the countless unknown souls with

whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy.

I glory in this life, where love and loathing are two words that do not

belong together but too often find comfort amongst each other. Well at this

point too much optimism eludes your judgment as much as you be what

you chose. Be wise about small things, stars are not as small, but only

twinkle from a distance.Deep in the forest when a great oak is felled the tremors are felt all over,

but when the dandelion sprouts in silence, not even the breeze notices.

No one ever promised sunshine without the rains, but caution my brethren,

as you pray in the latter you better had said another before. Such is the life

I glory in this world.


7/62

When you dont want to feel, death can seem like adream, but seeing death, really seeing it makes

dreaming about it ridiculous. May be there is a

moment growing up and something peels back,

maybe, maybe we look for secrets because we cant

believe in our moments. Maybe everyone out there isa liar; maybe the whole world is stupid and

ignorant. But ad rather be in it. Am I crazy? May be

or maybe life is. Crazy is not swallowing a deep dark

secret or being broken. Its you or me amplified and

enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a childforever then you are not perfect

.


8/62

,

A heart is a heart and what is the love of the world if you cant find the

better part of you? Tears come streaming down your face

Youve lost something you can't replace

Head hung low, heart beat slow, not an easy way to be, when the lights

dont guide you home.

You cry as you fall upon your knees, in the heat of the night,

and try's to get back up, will you sleep sound tonight?

When fear keeps pushing you down.

Will you ever escape this memory?

A fall from the skies through this one way street, looking for that special

thing.

Weak and alone you fall onto this disappearing world

Lifeless for a moment it seems

with no one to heal your broken wings

the flight is out of sight Whimpers & cries, stifled groans is all you hear.

Were you trying to be different? Was fate asleep or just unfair, dragging

you down to where the lights sleep?

In this world, an enjoyment of deception

you fall lifelessly through the hours, minutes, seconds,

To the ground where nobody will save you?

Close your eyes if you cant stand the flight

and disappear as If you never were to exist...

lost and rejected, born below the clouds with eyes wide open.Forgotten in a world where heroes dont cry.

If only you were one, If only you were one. This is your life are you who

you want to be?


9/62

I can't lose anything, so what is left that is mine?

I saw it all again fading memory became clear to me

Awake and dreaming am I only sleeping?

Sweet little hands Brush right past me, and

Sometimes you just don't understand why you can't reach

Broken, Torn at the seams, broken words are all I hear

Some never meant and some meant

Well, the difference between us is so hard to tell.

You waste the light between these times

drawing a thin line, Its nothing planned

but If It could be traded all,

If It could be given all away for one thing

Just for one thing If It could be sorted out

If you knew all about this one thing

Wouldnt that be something.

Forgive me if I wear the face of worry

this time alone could never cause any doubt

This storm could stay all night

If only we could stay until our eyes closed

till our dreams touched the light.

We think were in control, only

When we lie between the lines

Do we climb a little furtherbecause theres nothing we cant get around?

Further gets colder until nothing was all that is around.

Maybe stars know why we fall

I just wish they could think out loud

Oh, I could wish all night, a thousand mile wish


10/62


11/62

You laugh and say its all just a game.

But Im not laughing, i'm not entertained

This is my life, a confession I must say

Am not being bitter or complaining

About the world that was handed to me

This is my life, its entertainment.


12/62

Puedo escribir los versos ms tristes esta noche. The night is shattered and

the blue stars shiver in the distance. The night wind revolves in the sky and

sings. Life- it is but the dance of a falling leaf. Smelling the air of never and

forever. you shall above all things be glad and young, For if you're young,

whatever life you wear it will become you; and if you are glad whatever's

living will yourself become. And by whos any mystery makes every man's

flesh put space on and his mind take off time? that you should never think,

may God forbid and (in his mercy) your soul spare, for that way knowledge

lies, for that I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten

thousand stars how not to dance. Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly

beyond any experience, of the eye of my eyes, have their silence: in the

frailest gesture are things which enclose us, or which you cannot touch

because they are too near. I do not question whether I am happy or

unhappy, where and why, yet there is one thing that I keep gladly in mind.

My sight searches as though to go, my heart looks for what is not with me.

Will I have to wait till my soul finds satisfaction? Life is fleeting my dear,

do not despise it. Take it. And exhaust it. After, you will have time to go on

dying. Querido, querida, you live only once, and die for such a long time


13/62


14/62

Sing terribly afar in the lost lands?

You laugh, you cry, no one knows why

Behold the thrill of it all youre on the ride

you might as well Open your eyes.

I knew someone once who lost two cities, lovely ones.

And vaster, some realms he owned, two rivers, a continent.

He missed them, but it wasn't a disaster.

Even losing her I shan't have lied. It's evident

The art of losing's not too hard to master

Though it may look like a disaster.


15/62

XI

Beauty is only skin deep, but

Ugliness is to the bone.Well So much to say inside we all look pretty much alike

Beauty, truth, truth, beauty

Is that all we should and need to know?

May those who love us, love us, and those

Who do not may Allaah turn their hearts

If not may He turn their ankles so that we

Know them by their limping.Friend by enemy I call you out

You there staring at me with a bad coin in your socket

You there my friend with a winning air, false indifference,

Who palmed a lie on me when you arrogantly looked at

My shyest secret, with my heart under your hammer.

That though I loved you for your faults as much

As for your good, my friend were an enemy on stiltsWith his head in a cunning cloud.

Something strange about agony, its memories

Are short-lived.

We cannot tear a single page of our lives

But we can throw the whole book in the fire

We die but only once and for such a long time.

So can I stay mad forever when there is so muchBeauty in the world? A day in the pouring rain,

Broken mirrors, broken smiles. Its good to forgive, best to forget

Living we fret, dying we live.

My smile washed away by tears, a beautiful

Place to stay for a while? Melt in the sun, as the wind blows me

Away turning into butterflies.


16/62

Oh this unreflecting love. On the shores of this wide world I stand till love

and fame to nothingness do sink.

Even as I hold you I think of you as someone gone. Hair slipping through

my fingers with your head around the corner, your smile breaking before

me on that last turn. Even as I hold you I am letting go.

What lips my lips have kissed and where and why, I have forgotten the

arms that lain under my head till morn. I cannot say what loves have come

and gone, I only know that there was a song in me, a little while, that in me

sings no more. , such is life and such are children of men.

Thus let me live, unseen, and unknown.

Unlamented let me die, steal me from the world and let not a stone tell

where I lie.

We wear the mask that grins and lies; it hides our cheeks and shades our

eyes. With torn and bleeding hearts we smile and yet let the world dreams

otherwise.

I have fears that I may cease to be, I behold upon the starred nights face

and think I may never live to trace. Well what am I but the creature of an

hour.

Thanks for the morning light, thanks for the seething sea, for the

unplanned new expectations that unveil pleasant surprises.

Thanks for each man of courage, for every maiden with her chaste mind,

and even the boy undauntedly lost in his games who never looks behind.

With letters that do not cheer we plot and corrupt each other, spoiling theunborn.

Holding all hidden wonders, alas! The sprite that haunts us deceives our

rash desires. Lust in the glories of gods and immortality, left in a maze we

cannot learn the cipher from the stars, a mystery we could never spell.

A patient demon sits with roses and a shroud dealing his gifts but ours is

not allowed.


17/62

The night is coming, but soon shall silently sink as the moon drops behind

the sky.

Sit down sad soul and count the flying moments, how much an amount is

lost by a sigh! A smile! Shall you sit down and laugh and count no more for

a day is dying?

Do not leave hope and praying. Believe, for all days shall not be as have

been, better one are there for sure.

Think of days that are no more, tears rise in the heart and gather to the

eyes.

Death in life, the days are no more, so gone it is, as darkness falls a day is

gone.


18/62

Can a simple thing be who, as simple as the at.

As tiny as an in conclusion, yet two worlds fit through that.

Weigh the heavens more than thrice, and define your world by errors.

But bend the wisdom only twice, then comfort pain by layers.

Tell me in rhyme, my silent friend so I know it is truth,

which unstoppable force can move hell.

If it shines in your eye or causes first cry,

heed way it's the need for approval. But is it? You tell me.

Expectations steer my morning,

riled in beddings I hear my shout.

Sitting on the front edge of my bed,

two worlds joined by doubt. Least I not hate nor love too much,

if their meanings find me lost.

When as an evening showed me how,

a sunset told me soft. My love of you is a painful truth,

and these are its worst occasions.

For I could only give you everything,

but I can never give you persuasions.

I know of a poem with just one verse,

it's called eventually you'll stand and go.

When table flowers wilt just as gently,

that's what it is to know. The most evil I have ever heard,

needed not my tongue. And the most beauty I had ever seen needed not mysight.

Walking to sights unknown

trees would cast their shadows,

so as not to be alone


19/62

Bad company is as instructive as licentiousness.

One makes up for the loss of ones innocence

With the loss of ones prejudice

Although sometimes we may feel

The loss of prejudice as a loss of vigor.

Innocence never finds near so much protection as guilt.

Innocence always calls mutely for

Protection when we would be so much wiser

To guard ourselves against it.

Innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell,

Wandering the world, meaning no harm.

Do not, my brethren confuse is with anything else, for ignorance

Is not innocence but sin. Its innocence when it charms us

Ignorance when it doesnt.

We all began innocent, but look

Now we all are guilty


20/62

Isn't the woman there my sister?

Isn't the man there my brother?

in Islam, I mean to say

For I just took my shahadah

at the masjid here today.



I openly ask without any qualms

The one who just walked past me

Without offering me salaam



Though stands alone to pray

Each time I move to touch shoulders

Then takes a step and pulls away

Not wanting to touch feet either



the one that is not of my race,

for both of us are muslim

with varied hues making up our face


Isn't the man there my brother?Who laughed and made fun of me

And those others who listened

Doesn't their silence make them also guilty



Who didn't call me when I was sick


21/62


22/62

Even such is time which takes in trust our youth, our joys, and all we have,

paying us back with age and dust.

Its fate, whether you love what you love or ceaselessly hate it.

There things to be said. No doubt. And in one way or another they will be

said, but to whom tell the silence?

With whom to share them now?

A moment the skies were empty then a bird flew across.

That which you love most in them may be clearer in their absence.

But indeed, truth be told, Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls,

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

every two souls are absolutely different.

In friendship or in love, the two side by side raise hands together to find

what one cannot reach alone.

The worldly hope men set their hearts upon turns ashes or it prospers

Like Snow upon the Deserts dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two is

gone

Some for the glories of this world and some sigh for the prophets taught

paradise to come.

O my Beloved, what cup shall I fill that clears

Today of past regrets and future off its fears?Tomorrow! Why, Tomorrow? Always a day away, never to come.

I would rather yesterdays seven thousand years.

For some I loved, the loveliest and the best

Which this vintage rolling time has pressed,

Have drunk their Cup a round or two before,

And one by one crept silently to rest.


23/62

Ourselves must beneath the couch of earth descend

make the most of what we yet may spend, before we too into the dust

descend dust into dust, and under dust to lie.


24/62

Ey Chicita!

Tell me how youve been

Tell me what youve seen,

Tell me that youd like to see me too.

They say that love comes in through the eyes

And its sweetness through the mouth,

I look at you and sigh, yet the cup I hold is empty

Couldnt take another sip even if I wanted.

Is it too late?

I have seen people try to change, and it isnt easy

But nothing worth the time ever is.

Last night was a record to be broken,

I am coming with a rag to wipe away the haze from the days

So will you be my somebody Chicita?

Remember when you wanted to make a blanket off of me?

I been keeping scores I cant lie, and its your turn,

To wring me out, and lay me down to dry.

Isnt it scary sometimes to find the truths that you know to be lies?

I tried to fly to the moon but only made it to the sky,

But you still smile about things you dont have to do.


25/62

Its easier to be enthusiastic

About a ceremony of which one has no say chance of eventually

Being involved in.

So my friend, a wedding and a funeral, which one do you prefer?

Its the parting of years that saddens me.

I lift my glass and toast to true love, at least I was adored once.

Stop all the clocks, Cut off the phones, prevent the dog from barking with a

juicy bone, silence the piano, and with the muffled drum bring out the

coffin.

My north, my south, my east, and west

My working week, my Sunday rest

My noon, my midnight

My talk, my song

I thought that love would last forever,

I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun

Pour away the ocean and sweep away the woods

For nothing now can ever count to any good

Information like crumbs always trickles down to the vermin on the floor


26/62

Candle flickering in the wind,

Memories undressing my mind,

I sure shall miss you the most.

When you are away I shall long for you,

And when you are gone, weep for you.

For who shall walk with me now that you are leaving?

Clearly a broken smile is something I shall have to live with,

Courting shadows around the corners while chasing your sweet scent,

With lonely heartaches and pains laden upon my back,

Where shall I not go for a sigh of relief?

A glance thorough the crowd, could that be you?

Anyway, what is joy but sorrow unmasked.

The pot that pours your laughter, fill you with tears.

Or how else could it be?

Is it not the same cup that quenches your thirst, the very one that was

burned in the potters oven?

The lute that soothes your spirits, was it not hollowed by knives?

Look deep into your heart and you shall find that its only that which has

given you sorrow that is giving you joy,

When you are sorrowful look again in you heart if its not true that you are

weeping for what once delighted you.

Some say joy is greater than sorrow, others concur otherwise,

But I say to you, they are inseparable,And we are just suspended like scales between the two, only when you are

empty are you standstill and balanced.

So when the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and silver,

Then must your joy or sorrow rise or fall -

One does not kill oneself for the love of a woman, but because loveany lovereveals us in our nakedness,

our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.


27/62

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,

A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,

A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,

And never a laugh but the moans come double,

And that is life.

A crust and a corner that love makes precious

With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us,

And joys seem sweeter when cares come after,

Be a moan the finest of foils for laughter?

And that is life.

So its all I have to bring today,

This heart of mine that beats so wildly almost to break,

For love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing,

The more I enjoy it, more it dies,

Love is a torment of the mind, a tempest everlasting of blissful insanity.

For when she came with those red mournful lips

Along came the whole of the worlds tears and sorrows,

Together with the burden of years.

For each ecstatic instant we must an anguish pay, coffers heaped

With tears, a pound of flesh is it.

So I leave for a while,

I shall not blush to even a tear butLet it touch my cheek and speak that which mine lips have failed.

I leave you for a while with every lone hour uncheered,

For I lost a world just the other day which nobody has found.

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,

I being poor have nothing but dreams


28/62

Names do not reflect the honor on men,

But the men behind those names.

So let him speak of his own deeds if they not be eloquent

Enough and not of those before him,

For great men are never decomposed

They say, but what lives after them when their good is interred with their

bones.

O dastard soul, look at my face then judge between us

Which is the victor, though you be free but pale,

Am loaded with chains and compassion for you, well,

Kindness may not always produce what we expect,

For I armed you who wished to betray me.

Well, the truth of lovers is like

A beautiful dream at the back of mind, one says there is

Such, but where no one can tell! If you

Know where, point me to the spot

And I promise to preserve a steadfast love to whosoever.

So my dear friend, fortune is not to be trusted,

Whether she smiles or frowns.

For that wandering light does not mislead,

Nor have magic in that deceitful smile,

For under flowers and leaves a serpent often cowers and coils,And in the sky a star may seem to twinkle which is

No star.

So my friend, when you see me singing to the clunking of my chains,

Rest yourself, and pay me no mind, yet call me a mad man,

At time when fortune means men most good, she looks upon

Them with threatening eyes, as blind as you may deem her to be.


29/62

We live in deeds, not years,

In thoughts, not breaths,

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by the heart throbs.

He lives the most that thinks most,

Feels the noblest, acts the best.

So let wrinkles on my forehead

Be marks of my deeds engraved

And still indicate what I was in my days.

So my dearest, however great kings

May be, they are what they are;

They can be deceived like other men,

The wisest also errors, laying

The sword on the worthless shoulder

Which had better be branded by the hangman

What then?

As we, and they do their best

We all must answer for the intent

And not the event.

Ah! With how little attention one listens

To reason when the heart is touched

By so charming poison!

Patient loves his disease, and how unwillingHe becomes to allow remedy.

Well, we never enjoy perfect happiness,

Our most fortunate success mingled

With sadness, with anxieties always

Perplexing the reality of our satisfaction.

Its an omen when you enter on the path


30/62

With our eyes turned backwards from the first step.

So my friend, do not awaken tenderness

In my breast, for my voice shall fail me

When I seek words to encourage you,

My heart shall sink with me, and tears

Bedew my cheeks. So do your duty

And leave the rest to God.


31/62

We never halt in our senseless careers,

Flirting ceaselessly from thought to thought,

Our hearts always in a sea of embarrassments,

Not knowing what it wishes and wishes not.

Such is you and I,

What we one day detest, the next we desire.

Happy are you my friend,

Unknown to the world, content with yourself,

Whom the vain smoke of fame has not intoxicated.

I envy you, making all your pleasures dependent

On your liberty of action, giving an account of your leisure

To none but God.

I pass from white to black,

Condemning in the morning what sustained the evening before.

Working all around, not less an enemy to myself turn.

Oh! How long the night appears to one kept up by pain,

Slowly the hours pass for the unhappy.

So, shall I take him at his word till he does opposite

Of what he professes?

Well, distrust may destroy any good feeling that may have been cherished

And suspicion of enmity is often enough to turn a man so.

Well my brother, before you belie your word, and I have properGround to hate you, ad rather have faith in you and love you still

For your good and bad.

Well, some thoughts must be merely glanced at, and pretend not to see

them.

But there is nobody who is not dangerous for someone, for human

passions never come to an end, even when the heart is torn out.


32/62

It is thus that we walk through the world like the blind, not knowing where

it is we are going, regarding as bad what is good, and good what is bad,

And ever in entire ignorance, cluttering our paths to the prophets

promised paradise.

A man once said that, hope animates the wise, lures the presumptuous and

indolent, who rely inconsiderately on its promises. Can we wish for what

we know not?

O brother without hope life may seem a disgrace. Let prejudices rule the

vulgar around, our spirit is often led astray by its own delusions even

frightened by its own work.

Has the decree of fate often led us astray? Secretly conducting our steps by

the secret paths we know not? Plunging us into pits, and sometimes

drawing us out of them?

Load some with chains, while raising others to empires? Well, everyone

goes astray a

And the least imprudent is he who repents the soonest.


33/62

All are stricken and you are safe?

All got it wrong and you got it right?

All are blameworthy and you are excused?

What concepts, values, and concerns your heart harbors.

O passionate self lover, loving the illusion of what you think to be good.

Is there something you forgot?

Put aside your prides, set down your arrogance, and remember your grave.

Upon her back you walk, tomorrow in her belly you shall surely lay.Sadness indeed, again sadness indeed.

Your soul devoid of faith and its impetus,

Yet you raise your hands to the heavens, but He waits for the one day you

shall cleanse that heart you carry, beating with a violent love of the

pleasures of this world.

Do you deny the favors he confers upon you?

With it you return nothing but ingratitude to His bounties.O man, you fool none but your own self,

For when the secrets in your breasts shall be brought forth and the contents

of your grave scattered about, verily a witness against your own self you

shall be,

And o, what an awful return is that.

You decorate yourself for the world, but what is that you carry?

An enjoyment of deception you glory in and lose yourself,But what then when the skies shall be cleft asunder, what then?

O man, without faith, an ignoble creature with trivial ambitions and petty

concerns. However big the works your hands lay forth, it all shall remain

in the cesspool of this earth, confined within the limits of this life,

imprisoned by yourself.

O man, what shackles your soul, your hands in bondage?


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Shall it be a rude awakening?

You need not know when this will take place, but mere awareness of this is

but enough inspiration.

Know your Lord is your end, and on that day the state of affairs shall be

with Him.

Are you safe? Are you right? Are you excused?


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We trust our secrets to our friends,

But they escape from us in love.

The first sigh of love is the last of wisdom,

For we are easily duped by those we love.

Is it a pleasant thing to love?

With no obstacle in the way of those chains which together bind two

hearts?

How mistaken are the loving eyes never to see,

Tranquility in love is a disagreeable calm,

A happiness that is quite undisturbed becomes tiresome,

We must have ups and downs.

The difficulties which are mingled with love awaken passion and increase

pleasure.

Love is not a fire to be confined within the breasts,

For everything betrays us, the voice, silence, the eyes.

My faith! Man is but a fool shall he trust the future,

He laughs on Friday, weeps on Sunday,

Well you can chose to court your mind and soothe your conscience with

scale and dice, at times we are naked even in the best of coats.

A sigh, a look, a word from her mouth, that is the desire of a heart like

mine, Chicita, and give me nothing.

Everyday for years I see her, and always think I see her for the first time.No mask can conceal love where it exists, nor feign it where it is not.

Well, our want to trust, many a time justifies the deceit of others.

I who distrusts myself resorts to silence as the safest course.

O how I envy you,

heart contented with humble fortune,

free from the proud yoke by which I am bound,


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lives in obscurity in which fortune conceals him.

But amidst so many honors I am still a man, if at all it is;

So longs as you live, fortune ever changing has not promised you unalloyed

happiness. So count your blessing and praise your God.


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IN THE NAME OF ALLAH, THE MERCIFUL, THE COMPASSIONATE

And from him do we seek help all praise be to God, the sustainer of all the

worlds, and blessings be upon our master Muhammad his prophet, his

family and companions ajmain.

My dearest brother, my dearest sister! You wanted a few words of advice,

so listen to a few truths. I consider my soul in need of advice more than

anyone, so I shall address it with these same words in a language of

ordinary people as I. whoever wishes may listen together with me.

Bismillah, In the name of God is the start of all things good. We too shall

start with it. O my Soul! Know this blessed phrase is a mark of Islam, as

constantly is recited by all beings with the very tongues of their disposition.

Bismillah is an inexhaustible strength in such a light phrase so sweet to the

tongue, swift to recitation. Bismillah.

O proud soul of mine! You are but the traveller across the desert; your

impotence and poverty are of no limit as you enemies and needs know no

end. Bismillah travel safe and be saved from begging before the whole

universe and trembling before every event.

As all things say Bismillah, bearing Gods bounties, shall we not say

Bismillah as the heedless? For all the priceless wonders, and miraculousgifts of His mercies. However foolish it s to kiss the feet of the lovely man

conveying glad tidings of a king, not recognizing the gifts of the owner is a

thousand times more foolish, and so is to have the apparent source of

bounties and forget the Bestower of the Bounties.


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O Soul! If you do not wish to be foolish in this way, Give in Gods name and

act in Gods name.

O Soul! What makes this boundless universe rejoice if not rahma of Allah,

self-evidently what illuminates these faulty beings? What fosters and raises

creatures struggling within endless needs? Say Bismillahi Ar-Rahman Ar-

Rahim, adhere to this truth and be saved from absolute desolation and

pains of your needs and shortcomings. He informs you that He knows you,

through His mercies, with respect let Him know Him too and understand

with certainty that what subjugates the vast universe to an absolutely weak,

impotent, needy, insignificant creature like you is the truth of His mercy

through wisdom, knowledge and power, which require sincere gratitude,

earnest and genuine respect, therefore say Bismillahi Ar-Rahman Ar-

Rahim.

O Foolish Soul of mine! What happened to you that made the heart become

even harder and more lifeless than a stone? What sort of heart is borne

beneath my breast, within its hardness it resists the commands of such a

One. While the rock unfeeling and mighty display softness to His

command, prostrating in submission from sunrise. Yet you with a tincture

of reason and breath!

O my Wretched Soul! Is your life eternal I wonder? Are you assumed of

tomorrow or even the next minute if I may ask? So what causes youboredom if not that you fancy that you shall live forever. You complain as

though you will abide in this world forever.

O my Foolish Soul! Charmed at glory, enamored of fame, addicted o praise.

Glory not in your own works but b of gratitude to Allah Subhana


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wataAllah. Fame benefits you not but humility. The right is not yours to be

praised but repentance and istigfar.

Your perfection is not in your self- centeredness but recognizing what is

due to Allah. But O my Soul! You have take on a form entirely contrary to

the principles of my nature, through my incapacities transforming good

into evil, what a great stat of loss. What they see is only skin deep, beneath

which the truth lies, beneath the apparent veil. What truth is there?

O soul! The happiness of your dwellings is but a fleeting flash of light. So

be not perplexed by that await you. If only you understood that your life in

brief and that it in departing fruitlessly, then it surely would not cause you

boredom but excite, eagerness and agreeable pleasure to spend at least an

hour of the twenty four on ibadat.

O my Soul! Is it not everyday you eat, drink and breathe the air that

descend from His mercies? Do they not cause you boredom?

O my Impatient Soul! Is it at all sensible to think today of past hardships of

worship, difficulties of salat, troubles of misfortune and its distress, and to

imagine future duties of iadat and sorrows of disaster, and yet display

impatience? O Soul! You are charged with patience in three; ibadat,

refraining from sin and in the face of disaster.

O my Foolish Soul! Is the duty of ibadat without result and its recompense

little that it causes your weariness? But for a little sum or intimidation youcould work till evening without slacking. Which in this world in your

sustenance and wealth for your impotent weak heart, while the grave will

be a certain dwelling place for you? Ever though of the document and

patent that will be handed to you on that day, and on the bridge of Sirat

you are bound to pass? Is the recompose for ibadat little you say?


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O my World-worshipping Soul! Dos your slackness in worship and

prescribed prayers arise from the multiplicity of your worldly occupations,

or because you cannot find time due to the struggle for livelihood. Were

you created, for this world that you shall spend so much time on it? Heed

to the advice of Luqman.

O Soul of mine! Run and Heed to your Caller of truth. Be not blind, deaf or

even mad. Never thinks yourself better than others but listen to their

sorrows with compassion. Harbor not bad thoughts if you want peace. And

teach not that which you know not.


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You may labor your fill, friend of mine, if you will,

You may worry a bit, if you must,

You may treat your affairs as though they were a series of cares,

You may live on a scrap and a crust,

But when the day's done, put it out of your head, Its all gone now,

Don't take your troubles to bed. You may batter your way through the thick of the fray,

You may sweat, you may swear, you may grunt,

You may be a fool for the world to see if you must, but this rule

Should ever be kept at the front,

Don't fight with your pillow, but lay down your headAnd kick every worriment out of the bed.

Instead, sit down as the dark skies are laid forth

And count the acts that you have done,

And, counting, if you my friend find

One self-denying deed, one word

That eased the heart of him who heard,

One glance most kind

That fell like sunshine where it went,

Then you may count that day well spent.

But if, through all the livelong day,

Youve cheered no heart, by yea or nay

If, through it all

Youve nothing done that you can trace

That brought the sunshine to one face

No act most small

That helped some soul and nothing cost

Then count that day as worse than lost

So my friend,

Be watchful as tomorrow creeps in a petty pace from day to day,

And you wonder if your yesterday lifted but fools.

Life is but a walking shadow,

We strut and fret till we are heard no more

A tale told by idiots signifying nothing.


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Some rise tall

Others fall short

Great thud, great oak felled

Silence in the wind a dandelion sprouts

Love through the eyes, I lift my glass and sigh!We choose our fate by the things we do if it were.

That, a life lived to measure, then all you know count to scale.

And first there came a bitter laughter;

A sound of tears the moment after;

And then a music so lofty and gay,

Every morning, day by day,

I strive to recall it if I may.

The silent sands alone haunt thought and dream,

A barren calm, the failure of all strife,

Exhausted pyre where brightness found an end.

Nine to five, are we Living lies?

Everyday Stealing time taking everything we can

A need in me remains for sight or sense,

To wander where we dreamed, and loved, and wept,

Though faith is broken, bitter vow is kept.

As you go down you breathe life over me

Even though were miles apart we are each others destiny

Old moon fades into the new, your scent larking around the corner

It's an easy ride to roam youll never walk alone

Simple things we say Everyday hope to find the way

I hope it Feels like you've walked this way before.

I wait in line Till time. Ticking clock everyone stop.


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I drift aimlessly in times of hopelessness,

Searching tirelessly for meaning, purpose and truth and yet find no

direction.

My mind cries out desperately in times of solitude, posing questions, with

answers none forthcoming.

Well dream on but dont imagine that they all come true. If only it were so

simple to slide through life smelling of flowers, to the contrary we

unwittingly crush them beneath our feet.

Dreams sustain us through the madness,

Goals give us a finish line to our race, yet they change with every turn,

around every wall, and remain elusive through out the quest.

I feel fine with this sun in my eyes,

This wind in my hair, its like falling through the skies, but nothing fells

good.

Mistakes are made, laden with regrets, dragging them along every step.

The victories are flashes of light, sudden and unlasting, allowing us to

glimpse the road ahead before darkness descends.

When you hold everything in your hand, try the thrill of odds.

For where there is an if there are odds.

Love is bitter my dear, yet its the bread that keeps us,

Over and over it fills us only to starve us,

Its the people we love that shape our destinies and strengths, those thathelp you lift that one leg, and yet the same ones that lose us in the darkness.

Sometimes we think the truth is what we want until we find it, an actually

get it.

Alone is not a bad way to be, it clears your mind with focus, but cherish the

short intervals in your quest that you have with others, and be prepared to

walk alone.


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Life is hard to think about, that is the danger, everyone is a stranger.

Wonder where the pieces fall, with each footfall a heart betrays,

You may need the fear to drive you through the day.

So I lay down to a world of dreams hoping to find an answer.


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XXX

The value of compassion cannot be over emphasized, anyone can criticize.

It takes a true believer to be compassionate; for no greater burden can be

borne than to know no one cares nor understands.

Its a thing of no great difficulty to raise objections against anothers

orations but to produce better in its place is a task extremely troublesome.

Criticism, should it be as constructive as possible? As we always expect it to

be so? Nor can we feel always obliged to make it so? Well, when a man

points out that you have got a counterfeit, he is not obliged to replace it

with a new one.

On the other hand the cynic makes fun of all earnestness.

He makes fun of everything and everyone who feels that something can be

done. But in his heart of hearts he knows that he is a defeated man, and

that his cynicism is merely an expression of the fact that he has lost

courage and is beaten. He builds no bridges, makes no discoveries, while

progress demands inspiration and motivation, he prides himself with being

realistic in his approach, his is nothing but idealism gone wrong in the face

of frustration well ,well, well, a few things are more expensive than a

girl who is free for the evening. So be sure of yourself and do not relinquish

simply because some one else is not sure.

The devil is in the details, evil is the blemish of our species that will not

spare even the best man, but not to worry, when you hit the wall, walk

along until you find a door.

So watch closely and show no one, they will beg you for it but never you

give it up, because the secret impresses no one, its the trick that you use it

for that is everything.


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And thou art dead, as young and fair

as mortal birth aught.

form so soft, and charms so rare,

Too soon to Earth return

to be received in her bed,

And over the spot the crowd may tread

In carelessness

There is an eye which

A moment on that grave to look.

I will not ask where you lie low,

Nor gaze upon the spot;

where flowers and weeds at will grow,

It is enough for me

That what I loved, long must love,Like common earth can rot

To me there needs no stone to tell,

it is Nothing that I loved so well.

Yet did I love thee to the last

that did not change through all the past,

and cannot alter now.

The love where Death has set his seal,

nor age can chill, nor rival steal,

Nor falsehood disavow:

And, what were worse in me you set not to see

the wrong, or fault in me.


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The better days of life were ours;

the worst can be but mine:

The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,

the silence of that dreamless sleep

I envy now too much to weep;

that all those charms have passed away.

The flower in ripened bloom unmatched

Must fall the earliest prey

Though by no hand untimely snatched,The leaves must drop away:

And yet it were a greater grief

To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,

Than see it plucked by day

Since earthly eye but ill can bear

To trace the change to foul from fair.

I know not if I could have borneto see thy beauties fade

the night that followed morn

had worn a deeper shade.

Your day without a cloud hath passed,

and thou wert lovely to the last,

Extinguished, not decayed,

as stars that shoot along the skyShine brightest as they fall from high.

As once I wept, if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed,

To think I was not near to keep

One vigil over your bed,


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To gaze fondly on your face,

fold you in a faint embrace,

Uphold your drooping head;

And show that love, however vain,

Nor you nor I can feel again.

Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though you have left me free,

The loveliest things that still remain,

as much as I remember you!The all of you that cannot die

through dark and dread Eternity

Returns again to me,

and more your buried love endears

than aught except its living years.


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Every man dies, but not every man lives.

One day your life will flash before your very eyes

Just hope its worth watching.

To be or not to be is a choice we make with

Every minute, every breath.

A thing is not necessarily true because a man

Dies for it, for amidst the insanity of men,

He can believe the impossible,

And not the improbable,

Its a pity, what dies in us while we live

Renders our coffers much greater loss that life itself.

So lets die for what is true and not what we want to be true.

Even the boatman would agree, the first step to eternal life,

Is you having to die.

Am sorry my friends, that this stage that every man must play part,

Mine is a sad one, for when the game is over

The king and the pawn must in the same box go.

Cheers to the dead already, and hurrah for the next that dies


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Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells,

And sights, before the dark hour of reason grows somebody

Once said.

Who am I? Who are you?

We are who we are, in masks we fret on stage for the play.

But please understand that there is a face beneath this mask I wear,

Which is not me.

I am more than the face; the flesh beneath it, and the bones beneath it.

Who am I? Who are you?

A fragment of a grand masters imagination if at all is closer than what you

and they may suppose. Irrespective, we are all bound by a certainty.

So drop the dice and forget coincidence.

But how do you take away a mans madness without also taking away who

he is?

What you see is but a garment with which to cover the nakedness of the

self,

So I beg your pardon, for I prefer mine loose, through which my nakedness

can always be felt and sometimes discerned if at all.

With memories we hold onto the things we love, the things we are, the

things we never want to lose, for we wake up in different times and places,

Being forced to deny who we are.

As such am not upset you will tell me of a lie, Im upset that from then on Ishall not believe you.

What is there to do as underlings but to love our fate, our life?

Dont stop nor mind my obscure self, for identity is but theft of the self,

need I belong? We are who we are.


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For what it's worth: it's never too late nor too early to be whoever you want

to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or

stay the same; there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the

worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that

startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet

people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of.

If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over

again. You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things go. You could

swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go, for

you never know what's coming for you. A house can be haunted by those

who were never there if there was where they were missed. Of man's first

disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe, a peaceful sorrow at home

is the best I'll be able to offer the world in the end, and so I told the angels

by me goodbye. A new life for me. Eagerly I wish the morrow, vainly I seek

to borrow from my books of sorrowsorrow for the lost self.


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There is a voice within my fingers, buried beneath my skin,Words festering silence into hidden wounds. Words that mean everything

but nothings at all. Sit next to me and entice me with your look.

That desirable torment, pleasurable torture. That unavoidable thought I just

cant escape.

And I have myself for friendship, my friends for solitude.

And I want darkness to see, love so I can hate.

And I need you so I can be lonely, nothing so I can be full.


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I was eighteen years of age when love opened my eyes with its magicrays and touched my spirit for the first time with its fiery fingers, and

that was the first woman who awakened my spirit with her beauty and

led me into the garden of high affection, where days pass like dreams

and nights like weddings. She was the one who taught me to worship

beauty by the example of her own and revealed to me the secret of love

by her affection; she was the one who first sang to me. A very young

man remembers his first love and tries to recapture that strange hour,the memory of which changes his deepest feeling and makes him so

happy in spite of all the bitterness of its mystery. In every young man's

life there is a girl who appears to him suddenly while in the spring of

life and transforms his solitude into happy moments and fills the

silence of his nights with music. I was deeply engrossed in thought and

contemplation and seeking to understand the meaning of nature and

the revelation of books and scriptures when I heard love whispered intomy ears through her lips. Filled my heart with secrets and wonders. The

Eve led Adam out of Paradise by her own will, while she made me enter

willingly into the bliss of love and virtue by her sweetness and love; but

what happened to the first man also happened to me, forced me away

without having disobeyed any order or tasted the fruit of the forbidden

tree. Today, after many years have passed, I have nothing left out of that

beautiful dream except painful memories flapping like invisible wings

around me, filling the depths of my heart with sorrow, and bringing

tears to my eyes; and my beloved, beautiful, she is dead and nothing is

left to commemorate her except my broken heart and tomb surrounded

by trees. That tomb and this heart are all that is left to bear witness of

her. The silence that guards the tomb does not reveal a grand masters

secret in the obscurity of the shroud, and the rustling of the branches


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whose roots suck the body's elements do not tell the mysteries of the

grave, by the agonized sighs of my heart announce to the living the

drama which love, beauty, and death have performed. Oh, friends of

my youth who are scattered in the city, when you pass by the cemetery,

enter it silently and walk slowly so the tramping of your feet will not

disturb the slumber of the dead, and stop humbly by her tomb and

greet the earth that encloses her corpse and mention my name with

deep sigh and say to yourself, "here, all the hopes of boy I knew, who is

living as prisoner of love beyond the seas, were buried. On this spot he

lost his happiness, drained his tears, and forgot his smile." Ay that tomb

grows the boy's sorrow together with trees, and above the tomb his

spirit flickers every night commemorating her, joining the branches of

the trees in sorrowful wailing, mourning and lamenting her going,

who, yesterday was a beautiful tune on the lips of life and today is a

silent secret in the bosom of the earth.

Oh, comrades of my youth! I appeal to you in the names of those

virgins whom your hearts have loved, to lay a wreath of flowers on the

forsaken tomb of my beloved, for the flowers you lay on her tomb are

like falling drops of dew for the eyes of dawn on the leaves of withering

rose.


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mountains which reflects in its calm surface the shadows of ghosts and

the colors of clouds and trees, but cannot find an outlet by which to

pass singing to the sea. Thus was my life before I attained the age. That

year is like a mountain peak in my life, for it awakened knowledge in

me and made me understand the vicissitudes of mankind. In that year I

was reborn and ink touched the blank pages in my book of existence. In

that year, I saw angels looking at me through the eyes of a beautiful

woman, devils raging in the heart of an evil man. He who does not see

the angels and devils in the beauty and malice of life will be far

removed from knowledge, and his spirit will be empty of affection.


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To be, or not to be: that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummationDevoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered country from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;


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And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons

be all my sins remembered.

- W.S


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Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

'Tis a common proof,

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,

Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;


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But when he once attains the upmost round,

He then unto the ladder turns his back,

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees

By which he did ascend.

Documents

Memoirs of a Solitary Mind by Mahinda Vito