A Question of Truth

What is the truth?

An illusion wrought by society and its norms, which turn out to be the foundation on which that society is built. Each generation brings up its own version of the truth, and falsifies the one before it, and so the world is immersed in a selfish and futile loop.

 

What is the world?

The world is a product of that illusion, and so it is an illusion itself. It is up to us, as individuals and as a group, to either submit to this illusion or transcend through it.

 

What does it mean to transcend?

To recognize, to realize, and to understand that nothing is true. The notion of laws and regulations is not brought upon by divinity, but through faith and fate.

 

The purpose of life is not to seek freedom, but to be wise. Do not demand to be free, demand yourself to be wise.

 

 

Nulla e reale, e tutto lecito.

My Road

 My 7th poem.

Enjoy the read.

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The wolves of my mind,

The demons of my past,

The darkness of my future,

Are uniquely intertwined,

 

Together they shall rule,

Together they will control,

And together they shall remain,

All for me, and me for all,

 

The wolves follow me,

Through the shadows around me,

They howl when I rest,

For they are eager for me to go on,

 

The demons haunt me,

They remind me of what I’ve done,

They remind me of what has happened,

For they want me to prepare for what will now befall,

 

The darkness comforts me,

It soothes me,

It envelops me,

It saves me from the light that has already burned me,

 

The wolves howl,

“Find nothing but sorrow here,

Grief and loss,”

The Defying Ones,

 

The demons roar,

“Enter his past,

And we shall torment him all the more,”

The Defining Ones,

 

And thus Darkness proclaimed,

“A warning to the believing ones,

Walk here a human, leave here a shell”

The Protecting Ones,

 

My sins are many,

My wrongs overflow,

My deeds are not worth noting,

Yet I shall stand for it all,

 

The blackness of the night!

Suffuse my blood with it!

The brightness of the day!

Fill my soul with it!

 

I was wronged before,

I am wronged yet again.

I survived then,

I shall do so again!

 

My wolves! Howl for Wrath!

My demons! Roar for rage!

My darkness! Feel this glory!

Fear no ruin, fear no despair!

 

My wolves, My demons,

My darkness, My abode,

My homeward road,

All for me, and me for all

 

Ajwad Wasim Malik

My Eternal Peace

One of my works that I’m most proud of.

 

 

The morrow’s Sun asks,

For whom does the orphaned son weep…………..

 

 

I stand before a path,

A path I dare not cross,

A path that once held meaning,

One that held my light,

 

 

I turn away,

Laughing at the fools who crossed it,

Engrossed in my mind I am,

Therein I cried, therein I despaired,

 

 

The wind ruffles my hair…….

 

 

It senses me before I can comprehend it,

This feeling that I’ve never known before,

My laughter dies down,

My tears within dry up,

 

 

I turn back towards the path,

Dreading it,

Yet wanting it,

And so I stared,

 

 

And so I beheld,

 

 

A Maiden,

Covered in darkness,

Enchanting, inviting,

Yet fear it instilled,

 

 

I cannot move!

I cannot breathe!

I cannot think!

But my heart beats………

 

 

The darkness drops its veil,

And quickly it is enclosed again,

A glimpse I saw,

And this I walked,

 

 

I lurched towards her,

Falling and standing,

Crawling and running,

But never once I blinked,

 

 

The path is unforgiving,

It cuts and eats away at me,

But no longer have I cared,

I care, for nothing now,

 

 

I can run no longer,

My legs give away if I stand,

My bloodied arms can no longer rise,

My bruised soul can no longer heal,

 

 

I fall down,

I cannot move,

I have lost,

I have died,

 

 

I feel nothing for death, Let It come!

I feel nothing for the harsh earth underneath me, Let it burn!

I feel nothing for my flowing blood, Let it run dry!

I feel only my loss,

 

 

The ground finally cools,

My blood stops to flow,

This is the end I believe,

It is time……….

 

 

Heavens shall not allow a pawn,

To achieve its victory,

When it seeks it,

At the cost of itself,

 

 

Alas, I did not understand,

I did not care for the path,

And thus the path has punished me,

It hath forsaken me,

 

 

I feel Death’s hands close upon me,

I clench my eyes,

I dread his cold touch,

I dread this finality,

 

 

A tear falls……..

 

 

The hand comes down,

It caresses me,

It comforts me,

It forgives me,

 

 

I speak so,

“Death, you are a folly,

Does it please you?

To remind me of the failure that I made my life of?”

 

 

The hand presses down,

I hear a voice thus extol,

“I am not Death,

I am that what you sought”

 

 

My eyes fly open,

I finally breathe in,

I push against the ground,

I fall and fall again until I stand,

 

 

The darkness surrounds me,

It encloses me and the Maiden,

Nay nay,

My Maiden,

 

 

I see her now,

Beautiful beyond imagination,

A beauty that I only dreamed of late,

That can no longer be compared,

 

 

Gleaming eyes of grace,

Which see right through me,

A pleasure derived,

That cannot be described,

 

 

The light glows from her skin,

It radiates the darkness around me,

It lightens my soul of its burden

My light,

 

 

I begin to ask her who she is,

But I silence myself,

For I already know the answer,

I had sought it for far long,

 

 

I beckon to her,

I open my arms,

She steps forward,

And so I finally embrace her,

My Eternal Peace.

 

 

The morrow’s moon answered,

He weeps for what he might not have………….

 

Ajwad Wasim Malik

 

 

Graveyard

Silence. A silence so great, its greatness is only equaled by the sheer weight of the dead upon you. A house of the dead, only for the dead, and only the dead might reside in.

I feel like an intruder, an outsider, a conspirator caught in the midst of his treachery. A traitor, not to the living, but to the dead whose tranquility I intrude upon. Walking further in I cannot help but feel that I do not yet belong here, but I do feel my place amongst them. They will wait for that day, when I walk with them like one of their own, and my footsteps shall no longer disturb the great silence. The silence.

Only the wind blows around me. It blows with such force as to defy the gravity of those who reside therein, a futile defiance, one that the residents care not for. They look upon the stranger walking in their house, for they know he’s  only a guest for a time, and he shall leave once his heart’s desire is met.

What a folly we are? We are guests of this world and guests of the dead in their eternal home. A guest we shall always be, for it is our nature to be here for a set period of time, and it is in our nature that we die.

But once we do die, nature for us holds no meaning. We will finally cease being guests. We cease our endless follies in this world. Do not fear death; instead fear what will happen after death. Not to you, but to the ones who you leave behind, the ones who will be your guests in your eternal home.

I have fulfilled my heart’s desire in this place. The dead now call me to leave. The living are not welcomed there, for the dead know the blessings of Time, and would propel me from their silence to intrude upon the world once more. Like travelling journeymen, we tag along here and there, never stopping, yet always wondering.

The silence is heavy upon me now. My time has come and now I must leave. I cast one final glance around this graveyard, empty yet full, old yet new, mindless yet eternal.

From our birth, we have nothing unique to us. At birth our mother shares the joyful tears of our new life. We live our lives for others, every single moment is devoted to another, but death is not like that. Death does not seek the love of your friends or family, it does not seek even your love. It might be our most selfless moment in life. The End of it all.

If you understand the point of this post, well and good. If you don’t, then I hope one day you will get it.

One day our souls shall leave out bodies, one day our hearts shall stop their furtive beats, one day our malevolent mind shall stop its motionless wanderings. One day we shall be free. Wait for that day then, but do not forget the time in between. Use that time. For love and family and friends. That is what the dead teach us. That is what we should do.

 

The dead do not need the living, but the living need the dead.

Time and Tears

My fifth poem.

Before you read on, you must know the origins of this poem, or you won’t understand what’s going on.

I had a nightmare one night. It started off with a child’s scream which slowly faded away to pitch black darkness. A voice kept chanting “. . . . .tear drops down the well. . . . . .tear drops down the well. . . . . Your time is near. . . . . .tear drops down the well. . . .”

It carried on throughout the night, after which I woke up in a cold sweat and couldn’t get the chants out of my head. I had the urge to turn it nto a poem.

Hope you enjoy it

* * * * * * * * * * *

In the land beyond my own,

There lies a sunken ground,

There lies the forbidden pool,

The pool of lasting darkness,

 

The shadows lurk by,

Slowly and surely,

A ritual unlike ever seen,

A ritual of peace and death,

 

A tear drops down the well,

So far it goes,

When does it drop?

Nobody knows,

 

Out of the pool,

A dark figure arose,

He turned to me and cried,

“Thy time is near! Divide!”

 

In the land beyond my own,

Stood a figure just like my own,

We stood unified,

Together but not yet whole,

 

The Tear finally splashes down,

The Well overflowed with seamless joy,

The Heavens split with hateful sorrow,

Hellfire suffocated with happiness untold,

 

The Earth shook with its whole might,

The Seas dried up in despair,

The Mountains collapsed in fear,

The Desert blew away in disgrace,

 

The Dark figure smiled,

His work was finally done,

He turned to me and said,

“Our Time has come”

 

We walked together-unified and whole,

Our Time has come,

Like the legends of old,

To be buried and be reknowned no more. . . .

Ajwad Wasim Malik

My Mother:Decade of Desolation

My 4th poem. Enjoy the read.

 

 

I stand on the brink of dawn,

The wind blows still, the water drips slow,

Thus the Decade of Desolation ends,

Ere the Sun rises!

 

 

 

A decade has gone by,

since you passed beyond the void,

a lot has changed since then,

a lot that I still have yet to understand,

 

Where to begin?

Where to end?

What to tell?

What to hide?

 

Feel peace,

For the worries of this world are no longer yours,

Feel  glory,

For the children you’ve left behind,

 

Thy lord knows you are His,

Dead, and behold you live,

Greater love there cannot be than this,

In you I stay alive,

 

We will meet once more,

We shall walk towards Heaven together,

and that will be Paradise enough for me,

In you I feel hope,

 

Till Heaven’s gate we shall go,

Then I shall kiss you once again,

and continue my way to Hell,

In you I feel my strength,

 

Disappointed you would be,

Yet proud you would be too,

of Your Child,

of Your Son,

 

A slap on the cheek,

A twist of the ears,

A caress of your fingers,

Nothing, but a waking dream,

 

Your daughter has grown to resemble you,

and in time she will be just like you,

In her I now find comfort,

In her I sometimes find what I’ve lost,

 

At times, I feel peace,

For I know ,

You are in better hands, in a better place,

away from all these worldly troubles,

 

But I feel rage!

Such intoxicating rage!

Such rage that I willingly let control,

Such rage that will surely be the end of me,

 

Heaven and Hell shall witness a miracle,

You and I, Dead and Alive,

Together we shall be,

Together till the End of Times,

 

The Heart has stopped its relentless beat,

The Mind has finally rested its thoughts,

The Soul has flown free of its prison,

but Your Memories are forevermore,

 

Dawn has come and gone,

I raise my eyes to the Sun,

And see your face instead,

Ere the Son Smiles,

 

My Life,

My Pride,

My Peace,

My Mother. . . . .

 

 

Rest in Peace.

 

 

Ajwad Wasim Malik

 

 

 

 

To the Reader=

 

The decade ends, and a new period begins for me. I shall keep the Desolation, and entrust the Decade to you. All I ask of you, is to get up and give your Mother a hug.

Do it now, before it’s too late.

 

You’ll never know what you’ll miss,

Until you get a reason to miss it,

 

You’ll never know who Death is,

Until He knocks on your door,

David Draiman

One of my favorite quotes by the frontman of one of my all time favorite bands. It was more than worthy to be on my blog as a post.

“I would like to thank a world that never understood or accepted me, family and friends that never believed in me, and a God with one hell of a sense of humor. You have all made me what I am today. Let that weigh heavily on your consciences.”—David Draiman