Journey is that I start
To
Just to find the One, true art
When I walk
Miles, days and nights so dark
Just to meet the One, true star
Near east where sun restart
Walk rest and eat rhubarb
Just to beat the One, true heart
After many days had passed
Found my white Porcelain Heart
Kept within the One, true ark
I wish to come out of agony. Can this machine, the human, fulfill my dream? Everyday I am born to this wide wild world. When happiness give birth my skin, like cotton dyed in ochre. And when useless and barren I am like an umber stone.
I want to be seen in the northern lights like the “vase with twelve sunflowers”. I want my smell to spread to the west like the “Arabian Jasmine”. I want to be heard to the south like the “Stringed Rabab”. And I want to be felt with the eastern sun like the luster of “Lei-Zu”.
I am what made me yesterday. And today it is one of the happy births. The only thing missing is the Arabian Jasmine. I cannot say that the total vain is gone. Certainly today is a far better day than a useless day.
Last nights search kept me way beyond the singing silence. The cold foggy shower woke my sleepy mind before I let my body to rest. Dark enough was the night only my mind could see. Heard the early Morning Prayer call just ahead of dusk before the sun rose. The slow physical movement of my body in prayer and unseen meditation of my mind was the best thing of the night. This calmness helped me sleep quicker than my usual struggle. Soon I could not feel my body.
Now only my inner self is playing the music. Like the leaves humming in the wind. Like the shores gently hugging the distant white sandy beach. I thought my body could be like this forever. I could never know. For either I could feel my body back or would never too. Both are so possible that the probable “almost sure” for both are infinity minus one. Or can say simply almost as uncertain as “i”. Can minus “i” be possible for you?
I am half awake now. Mad things my mind says when my body rest will be les now. I can yawn and stay half awake only for sometime. Now this is for certain. After a little while my still body will signal my mind that I am the useless agony of your existence. So go empty yourself. Like the Zen master
So no more I could stay. I jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet. This is how a usual day begins for me. And there I wait to let myself go. While there I write my to-do list in my mind. And I give credit to almost all my creative thinking in art, architecture, photography or writing to this one social space, the basics of which has never changed with time. The way a person think depends on how that person empties the self.1
1. A book may give you knowledge. A teacher may give you what that person may know or experienced. A school may give you set rules of guidance. But it is how well you extract the seed from all of them, after eating the pulp. And grow your tree of knowledge from that seed. Extend the roots deep down to your origins. And even the stormiest of winds cannot bring down the whole of you.
early writings, translation with modified extension of a "Dhivehi" (Maldivian) language original written by me in 1988
Histories will it ever go, just as how my eyes close
Without the tears that’s left, just as when my eyes close
Past will it ever vanish, just as how my tongue disclose
Together with the martyrs’ names, surely as when my eyes close
Language will it not be, just as how my liver folds
Beautiful lingo and those people, when seen how my eyes close
Mother land will it not be, just as how my mind unfolds
Glowing like a fairy tale, surely as when my eyes close
Heritage will it ever fade, just as how my hair grays
Without a colour that’s between, just as when go the days
Cultures will it ever pale, just as how a building wears
Leaving behind an empty haze, surely as when my eyes close
My wish to sleep to see
Blissful dream so true
Pouring down my self
Lonely night is you
Blind I am you are
My only distant star
Veiled white fumeless
Bring ashore burning
My mind ablaze forever
Night is endless hope
Serene tranquil path
Guiding silken light
Early writings, 22 may 1990
may today born a million
million innocent
innocent lives
crying apart
different a miles
may today crawl a million
million healthy
healthy lives
yelling mystic
unknown lines
may today walk a million
million helpful
helpful lives
speaking alike
straight a life
may today talk a million
million helpless
helpless lives
whispering words
wisdom of wise
may today lie a million
million grateful
grateful lives
lying beneath
sandy skies
Intro I heave my hands out to nowhere. Just to feel my dream in air. Curious I begin at allegro speed. From movement one I close my eyes. And felt the silky ballet to opus of breeze.
Exposition
Subject 1, P. Slowly down I came afloat. The only soft I felt so far. Each my hand reflects a mirror. The warmth the curve so felt the eye. Seems like paragon hills through élan valley.
Transition,
Subject 2, S Here I start to journey again. To far afar so far I know not. I go to find a place afar where dancing grass hid the spring beyond. The place is sure I dream to be. Now almost felt though far away. The sprinkling waters of distant dreams. My far away dream is where I wish to be.
Codetta, K Now I know where I am gone. There I lie until the day comes. P is my past and S my future. But T is my now the all I have. So here I rest myself alone.
I want to see me through you. So wrap my violent seas with blues of your skies. And let me see me in you. You are far, far away. And the distance is the reason to meet. Like sea and sky at endless horizons.
I can only see through you; the murky waves of my stormy seas; the lurking hills of my distant sights; the branching corals of black and pink; and untold sighs of my floating self.
How can I see myself through you? You are calm and me in vain; you are endless and me limits; you are deep and me too shallow; but most of all you are far too far for me.
How I long to see myself, reflecting through your empty self. Though never is you and always too. If then were you, so is now. And when comes forever see me through you.
I have a name tagged on the seventh day after my birth. My name consists of two separate words or names. Both names are alien to me. They are not our language, culture or names.
My country is an island nation consisting of more than 1200 islands. I live in the midst of the
I knew the meaning of my names while I was half way through my secondary schooling. My first name is Arabic, of Central Semitic language origin. And my second name is Ordu, a distant relative of my mother tongue, of Central Indo-Aryan language of Indo Iranian branch belonging to the Indo European family of languages.
I have to research even to write about myself. But it is fun and I am learning a lot more than I already know.
As I swim deeper into myself, I begin to know the ancient mysteries of my other self
My sim ran away with the person who stole my phone. It is no fault of my sim. My sim is stuck in the wants of my belongings. I should have taken more care of my belongings. Otherwise I know my sim would never run away from me.
Where it is, how it is, I can only imagine. Is it in a trash, without a shelter or beaten by the trespassers I would not know. And I can never know how many raindrops dripped from it in lonely dark nights.
I have a new sim now. Looks like my sim. The same number too.
But …
I begin to know myself. Why? For the simple reason I am the closest to me. And for the weird reason that I do not know myself. I sleep and I wake. And the rest happens in between. My mind is busier than a street scene. And the rest I have to know.
Myself I am simply me. Why would I be someone else? Knowing me is the hardest and the simplest task I have. I am here and my mind is there. Bringing them together is what I am learning. My thoughts sculpt me more than my words or actions. For that very reason I am my mind’s sculpture.
My mind fine tunes my senses. What I see. What I hear. What I smell. What I taste. What I touch. But what about my minds sense of appreciating all these five senses. I may see an object, a person or a place. But are my eyes seeing the “wow” in it. Or is it my mind retuning to create a different perspective. The same is for the rest of the senses. My minds sense to add these five senses and invent an inner sense is true in itself. Far better than what I can do with my physical self.
I am a reflection of my mind. And this is the simple proof that you see me in colour.
I am the colourful reflection in the colourless bubble of my mind.
You are there where the moonlight casts no shadows.
If not, have I not reached your footsteps by now? It is where I shall begin to know you until I empty myself. How can I reach you through the emptiness of your self? Or is this emptiness sinking us deeper and further away.
You are there where the wind blows no breeze.
If not, have mine not reached your breath by now? It is where I shall begin to let you live until my last breathe. How can I reach you through the emptiness of yourself? Or is it this emptiness floating us deeper and further away.
You are there I know for sure. And for me you are a sleep apart.
So let me be the sand again to let yourself come over me.
Then I shall truly find you.
Dear Myself (or are you not), then Dear My Soul
Why am I thinking of you when you are about to leave. Or is it the departure that’s hard to accept. I haven’t missed you for the past thirty eight years of your living with me. And for all those years I have not seen you. And now when you are about to leave I would still not see you, but am missing you already.
Your warmth heats my life and falls in salty rain. How strange it is that I cannot even weep when you will be gone. Cold will I be and blue my dreams. You are the yellow in my life.
Are you leaving because I have not spoken to you ever? I wish you could hold me forever.
I wonder why you were hiding all these time. I wish you could walk with me in the rains. I wonder how you would look like. What you will be and why you are here. And last why you will leave me.
Forgive me if I ever hurt you. For I have nothing which you can ever take with you. Except the wind of your song which flows through me like a gentle breeze. You sing every moment my breath which I own not. And take away my smile which I gave not.
My dearest Soul.
This is the moment of truth. The truth which I tossed like the stone washed ashore. Go take with you the twilight of my saddest dreams. But not the moment of my waking eyes. Take with you the darkness of my hazy nights. But not the daylight from the path I walk.
introduction
Why do problems occur? Is it because one cannot solve something, or that one has a very different way of thinking than another? If two have a different view then it becomes an argument with one trying to rule out the other and suggest one’s own views. It becomes more analytic than a problem itself.
Problems occur when one cannot find a reason to believe one can find a solution. Or is it not true that some do not try to find solutions? And some try to research the problem too much that they tend to move away from the solution.
April 22, 2071
The day cannot be unusual but my thoughts.
Slowly, and softly, she wakes. Slowly I am seeing myself out from the dark. I can feel the warmth when she touches me gently. Tender indeed is her awakening. Warm, caring and loving.
And today I can tell her that I woke before her. And today for the first time I saw her sleeping. And today for the first time I saw her smiling in a dream. And today for the first time I am feeling the caress of her awakening. I felt because I woke before her. She is rising.
I am The Seafarer, and I am going to tell you how I felt, how I lived, where I went and what I liked most of you.
