A Time of Polar Opposites


It is a time of things old,

A time of things new;

It is a time of grey skies,

And a time of skies blue.


It is a time of gradual beginnings,

A time of abrupt endings;

It is a time of knowing to be bold

And a time of self-surrendering.


It is a time of dreams come true,

A time of hopes and lives destroyed;

It is a time of scientific admiration,

And a time of environment annoyed.


It is a time of spontaneous bursts of love,

A time of inexplicable impulsive hate;

It is a time of refusing to submit to reality,

And a time of embracing what brings fate.

f19 funky tree

It is a time of promising failures,

A time of unfortunate successes;

It is a time of lack of resources,

And a time of cruel excesses.


It is a time of needless luxuries,

A time of great need;

It is a time of loving charity,

And a time of ruthless greed.


It is a time of deep fulfillment,

A time of endless longing;

It is a time of painful alienation,

And a time of finally belonging.


It is a time of times light,

A time of times dark;

It is a time of deadened hearts,

And a time of souls sparked.


It is, alas,

A time of polar opposites;

And we must strive to grow, love and flourish,

Somehow, inside of it.

And God knows Best.



The Astonishing Thing




The astonishing thing about certain people

Is that they’re not very much like all other people.


Some people are like the sparkling starry sky

Who continue to shine out and reflect in mortals’ eyes

Years long after they’ve gone down the road

Who even in the distance, make an impression bold

A star that persists to burn brightest

Even when the nights are darkest –

Some people are like stars.

Some people are like the mountainous landscapes

But whose greatness is determined neither by size nor strength

But rather by noble and quiet deed

Upon the praising of God do their souls deliciously feed

A mountain that maintains its pegs in the mantle below

While peaking upwards to the sky, aspiring further to go –


Some people are like mountains.

Some people are like a luscious forest of trees

Whose roots are firmly grounded to earth, in humility

Whose hearts experience rebirth, seeking His Majesty

A tree that starts from a seed, and soon, behold

Its mysteries contained of beauty and stories of old –


Some people are like trees.

Some people are like the soothing wind

A cool gentle breeze, just as soon as you please

A wind that takes one’s breath away

Whose wisdom makes one’s thoughts joyfully stray

(And since the breeze don’t show it,

Of its awesomeness, it don’t know it) –


Some people are like the wind.

All people are like people,

But some people are beyond

Some people are like the guiding stars,

The glorious mountains,

The fruitful trees,

The merciful breeze,

And all things in this world that God makes beautiful.


Some people are all these things,

And some people are more, too

For what’s most astonishing of all,

Is that some people,

Are you.



The Secret Joys of Garden Work


When I was younger, the very mention of working in the backyard brought a sigh to my lips. It was always a mystery, however, why I always came back home feeling at peace and refreshingly fit, despite the aches in my physical muscles. I denied it, however, as it isn’t very ‘cool’ of an older teenager to enjoy working with dirt that contained worms and other creepy crawly things.

However, as of a couple of years, I’ve begun to wear gloves when getting my hands real dirty. (And all of a sudden, the garden is not such a scary place.)

I cut the grass today with my parents. I offered to do it despite my current mood.

You see, time and time again, I forget what draws me outside; all I recall is the tiredness in my body. Yet there’s always that secret joy I remember feeling, but cannot put into words, and when not put into words quick enough, soon fades from memory.

Well, I choose not to let that happen again. Here I am writing what a pleasure it is to push a big bulky machine across the lawn just to be able to smell the zesty smell of the grass. Here I am writing what a mercy it is to work under the sun while the wind strokes your face and misty patters of rain defiantly fall from the sky. Here I am writing what a thrilling surprise it is to come face to face with an animal you’ve never seen before staring at you- looked like something between a squirrel and a beaver, it seems, it didn’t open its mouth so I never saw the teeth. Here I am writing what a calming experience it is to simply BE there for my parents, working with them, even if it was merely to open a black garbage bag for the grass or grabbing the lawnmower out of my mother’s hands forcefully and requesting her to sit down for a moment. Here I am writing what an adventure it is to discover new tiny flowers you’d never have discovered walking on top of the grass, and only spot-able when you got down on your knees. Here I am writing what a wonder it is to feel all your mental weariness slide away as physical weariness took place. Here I am writing what a beautiful thing it is to simply observe what I see everyday, without really properly seeing. Here I am writing what a mystery it is in the magical green land called the garden, to find your thoughts moving from agitated worries to soothing reminders of God’s blessings.

There’s a saying that goes, “Remove the world from your heart, but keep it in your hands.” It’s the most bizarre thing, but I think for a few precious moments, while doing garden work, the world feels a little less heavy and my heart seems to sigh in relief.

Oh, the secret joys of garden work. Now I know why I keep offering to do something as dry as cutting the grass: to be at peace with nature, and with myself.

No, this was not the animal I saw. In the gardens of Paradise, inshaAllah, maybe. :)

No, this was not the animal I saw. In the gardens of Paradise, inshaAllah, maybe.

And God knows best.