Running to where?

Why is it that I keep dreaming the same thing over and over again? Why do I keep dreaming of running and running, endlessly, being chased like some pray hunted by some unseen hunter?

What is the meaning of my dreams? I dreamt that I flew with wings of white, angelic figure yet the light that shines from within was neither white nor pure, it was black as night.

Who is this that chases me in my dreams? A mili second away his hand reaches out to me, very nearly searing my wings apart with his grip of death. Is it death? Am I dreaming of Death?

Is the angel of Death beckoning me to my fate?

I have often thought of death and being dead. With the recent passing of my friend; former schoolmate; I couldn't help to think 'What if that was me?'

I thought about the being carried by solemn friends and relatives to the cemetary, the ground already dug out ready for my dead physical matter.

I pretended it was me that lay there in the ground, with my head facing the Holy City and the white clothe that binds me to my end.

The thought sent shivers down my back, this short life of mine has witnessed too many darkdays that I if released into the world, the sky would darken for days.

I don't seek to surrender while I still breath, what I seek is the truth.

Allahyarham Jazimin Al-Fatihah 1982 - 2005 Posted by Picasa

.....uh  Posted by Picasa

'innocence' the beginning of all life Posted by Picasa

Is silence golden?

Bisu Posted by Picasa

My dearest of dears,
forgive me of my silence,
this quietness that engulfs me,
means not of apathy.

I beg of you,
Think nothing of my silence,
for my heart is yours,
in allaying all fears.

I am sorry for me,
That i could never be,
The ones who brings you,
not cheers and laughters but only tears.

Untangle my roots if it pleases you...

Im like a weed that feeds on anything that has an aura of neediness. Like a weed I infest on others like the weed i am. Drawn by the feelings of solitudes and isolation my twines find it ways in the darkness of day as if by some unseen forces.

I am a weed, sucking up the juices of life in places that I am not wanted. A bit of green at first that calms the eye but then when my leaves gets out of control, multiply in numbers beyond expectation it is time that my roots get pulled out of this solid ground.

I don't know why, but this is the weed I am. Perhaps was to be born as such to give others shelter from the heat of the day and as the sun sets my functions serves no more than of lesser fertelizer.

A weed is always a weed, regardless of how much flowers I bloom in one day or how much of the cool shade I have given. Useful in the begining but at the end of it, i serve no purpose. This is perhaps as far as useful I could be. I wanted to be more but I don't see any reason to think otherwise.

A weed is just a weed. Need me and throw me. Do as you please. As long the sun keeps shining on your leaves.

i n m y h e a d i sung a song

much to say of so many but my mind says nothing of such.
In the beginning it didn't really take much time in knowing what I wanted, but it seems as if an eternity has passed and yet still im no where near.

The world is a deceptive world, and its people are all actors.

In my head is a myriad of faces and faces and names. Yet only some bears the full picture. i wish to sing, to attached some notes on my musical life that bears so much tragedies and so much joyous occasion. Hamlet fails to par it self with my tragedy, and only Romeo suffers what I have suffered.

All is not lost, some hopes still lives and some dreams still being dreamt off.

sometimes feelings comes when just for that moment once, and then leave you again to suffer isolation.

i find it hard to know what i want, i find it rather difficult to know what exactly is that thing im looking for that i seem to have lost or misplaced. always out of sight and hidden. like a missing piece of the jigsaw, i couldn't feel whole. the picture was not complete. i needed something to complete the picture yet i don know what.

A picture

Image of A Friend Posted by Picasa

I don't know what sort of possesed me,
Like some ghostly hands that wonders,
Upon this white of innocence,
I began to inscribe of lines.
Lines that I seems to have forgotten,
Of the past that made me what I am.
The lines drew itself into shape,
Of a soul I have barely knew,
Yet my fingers knows best.
And I drew.

Happy Birthday to my homeland.

So another birthday looms by, what's next I wonder on our menu?

Do you feel anything at all? Me? I don't know, maybe...

It's hard to find the right feel every time this Merdeka Days come up, how am I suppose to feel? This Virgo-an syndrom is killing me, sometimes I wish I feel less.

Another year comes and go, another celebration and another illusion?

Was reading some interesting arguments between some oldies who had a lot to say about almost everything that is to do with Malaysia truly Asia. ( . Some had rather interesting views while others prefer to argue on facts of history but all in all you can't help to learn a thing or two from reading here. If ever you have plenty of time to sieve trough all the articles you'll find its blardy hilarious concerning comments given by readers. The plus side is that being a lazy bum like myself when it comes to matters of business HERE is where I get my sources of what's going on the undershady business world of our beloved country. You guys won't believe it its like a whole lot of lies, drama, and other shabangs just like those we see on tv. Corporate scandals is just as saucy as real life ones. It beats knowing who fitnah who anydays..

Where was I?

Oh what is it like being Malaysian? To be honest I have no idea whatsoever. I'm stuck in this dual idealism of what I should be being bombarded by parties seems to plague this country.

Being loyal, can we be loyal to something even though it is wrong in the first place? Are we loyal to the person or to the idealism? What happens if the idealism is right and the person is wrong? which would you go for?

Then if the person is right and the idealism is wrong, what would happen then?

Moving on..

Gokusen Posted by Picasa

Even good stories end, characters move on leading life as they should have. All stories come to an end, sometimes to a happy ending and yet other times; better not say.

Thus in life, in the real world everything is on the move. Time move, people move and hearts move. The ending of my campus days brought much abrupt sense in myself. There was many no-mores; like eating nasi lemak at 3 am and sleeping in class. With working life, everything seems to be different.

For one who was used to having company constantly day in and day night and then Boom here all alone on this Island; was quite a big slap on my arse. I know I've been here before, in this same situation yet still I felt like I never felt it before. It was foolish to think that all these fun stuff would last forever and things would be the same always.

Nothing can be help with it comes to growing up, everyone has their own fate and their own destiny. I will come to mine and they will go to theirs.
Roses blooms and wilts, but their smell remains.

Expect the unexpected..

Hjh Soyah [1907 (estimation) - 2005] Posted by Picasa

Expect the Unexpected... so they say, but are we ready for it when it really comes?

Two things that I thought would never happen, happened on this very rainy tuesday;

1. The Matriach of me mama's clan died today. (alfatihah to hjh soyah)
She lived to almost a hundred, her birthday seems to have been unknown to everyone even to her own son and we could only guess how old she is. she might even already been over hundred but who knows,for sure she ain't anything below 90.

the earliest memories of this particular great grand aunt (my great grandmother's sister) was that she tried she very best to 'sua' (sort of 'give to you') he prunely wrinkled breast when i was a wee bit of a toddler. she has this odd sense of motherhood that she was still producing milk at the age of 50. the lucky thing was i never got to taste the forbidden fruit but i heard some of my cousins had, all due to their innocences.

The thing that touched me about her was that during Hari Raya, she would never fail to sob and cry whenever any of us would pop over and give her the mandatory visit. To go back to kampung and not visit her was unheard off. only some would dared to go against the customary visit. she was the 'mother' to us all. she 'mothered' most of my grand relatives, taking the role of being a mom to orphans and the likes like my grandfather was. she was strict, like any negri sembilan women of those days yet with a hint of tenderness. Her crying and sobbing, would remind us of family, i guess in a way she was touched that people came to visit her and remembered her. for me there's no way in the world i could forget her.

i don't know whether to expect or not this death. i know we all die some point in our lives but to expect her to die, well i couldn't really imagine. she has been around as long as i can remember.

when it comes to distance this is one of the cons of it, when someone dies; you can't exactly go back straight away. so i guess i just pray for her from all the way here.

2. Watched a real life malay drama unfolds in the rain.
me and my housemate was walking towards the shop we always go to for dinner, and along the way there was this couple; with no umbrellas walking ahead of us. i don't know if its just me or its pretty obvious but when drama's unfold my eyes could spot it without a blank.

at first they were walking hand in hand in the rain (blardy romantic ain't it?) like any other couple would but some how or rather, the girl seems hesistant to walk. like she was drag out into the rain with some force. on and off the would hold hands with the girl pulling her hands at time and stopping in the rain. they said some stuff which by distance i couldnt make out of but obviously they were fighting (oooher.. drama drama dramaa). they walked a bit more and hold hands and stopped. she turned around, they argued though no screaming or shouting but just talking. she took something off her finger and gave the bugger. even put it into his hands. (pergh....someone should call mohaiden razak..) he looked stumped, she walked off. he looked stumped again and she left him in the rain. (damn it would love to see him running after her and begging on his knees, but alas .. guys being guys .. hahahahaha) .. more walking from her and he also walked off in the other direction, looking back once in a while. then walked off for good. stupid arse.. should have run back after her and said freaking 'i love you' or 'im sorry' ...

seriously i watched it with my own two eyes...

he was a caterpillar...

it is said you are by your surroundings..

what happen when you don want to be what your surrounding is wanting you to be? but can you really beat the things ppl want you to be? how is it that sometimes without intention people can push others into being what they are not?

there was a butterfly, once in his life he was a caterpillar. fat, ugly, wrinkly thing wiht lots of hair. he always thought that one day when his time would come and his biological clock starts going off and he would the most beautiful creature ever; his life would ultimately follow suit and be the happiest he can be. yet that wasnt the case..

he grew up always thinking he could never change and the ugly creature he would be for the rest of his life. with the current look and the current ways of life, other creatures have become more superficial and even shallow.

but he had friends, he does even though his life seems like shit. he had some real good friends, he had fun with them, laugh with them and cry with them. all those normal corny shit that friends go through. but the thing that bugs him about his friends was that they would always see him as a caterpillar, albeit right now his has full blast booo-tiful wings that no blardy dragonfly can surpass. he could soar up so high and yet feel so down. his friends would always remind him of his caterpillarness, something he wished they would all stop and look at him as a damn gorgeous butterfly.

everyday now since he has become a being he is proud off, he could never shake the shackled that binds him to his past. his friends would do it to him. they take it that reminding him of something he wishes he was not was funny, and it becomes a joke in their circle of friends. what they dont know is that, each time his caterpillarness mentioned a little bit of him would tear up hoping that they would all just shut up and let him become what he really is.

he just couldnt understand why? why is it that his friends would want him to be this ugly, fat, wrinkly glob of caterpilla when in fact hes a frigging butterfly? he doesnt have the answer and he thinks no one knows.. perhaps time does.

its just funny, that his friend dont really do it on purpose. its like an unintentional branding that they gave him for what he was. like his head was branded with the sign that he was what he was and he could never be something else, its like they wouldnt let him change. its either they refuse to let him or denies him of it. the right to be something better and something what every one is, a perfect creature in its own being. as perfect as God allows it.

his loves for his friends is unquestionable but he only wishes that they let him be who he wants to be and something like what they are...

let him fly............

what if the truth is that simple?

some people have so much time in the world that they to too lenght to so called unravel the truth. it bugs me that there is such people who wants to disaray of the things that are already organize.

isnt it better to see what is good for us instead of trying to so called discover the hidden truth. what if there is no hidden truth to it? what if the truth is a simple as that?? <- hell inspired more likes.. huhuhuhu ..

"Do they not travel in the land and see what was the end of those before them? (Tsamud, Sodom, Pompeii) They were superior to them in strength and they tilled the earth and populated it in greater number then these (pagans) have done adn there came to them their messanger with clear proofs. Surely, Allah has wronged them not, but they use to wrong themselves.

Then evil was the end of those who did evil because they belied the Ayat (proof, evidence, verses, lessons, signs, revelations, messangers etc..) of Allah and made mock of them ...

Allah originates the creation then He will repeat it then to Him you will be returned.."

what happen when the light is blown out?  Posted by Picasa

if tomorow is when i die..

"there is no time for sadness if tomorow is when i die"

That's my new motto for this month, i believe i have much to do before i succumb to death. Death comes for all of us, some quicker than others...

been thinking about my ending, the IF's of all IF's ..

i know it aint right or good to be thinking the endless possibilities of life but i just couldnt help it. i want to be ready, mentally and emotionally.. death is to be expected and im expecting it full heartedly..

if my time is short then let it be short, i will make the most of it.

was reading stories of survivors of AIDS patients. I guess the only disease in the whole freaking world that brings much nightmares and sense of endless doom. but then again, there are people out there who fought AIDS and survived if not cured. there is no CURE but we can survive from it.

to help people is to first help yourself, theres no point in wanting to help people but when it comes to yourself.. aiyah ... whos treating who again? but most important of all is to need compassion and the sense that every little bit that you do could one way or another help. it don have to be a big thing, small things matters as well.

a favourite quote of my mom:

"By the time (al-Asr),
Verily men is in loss,
Except those who believe (in Islamic monotheism) and do righteous good deeds and recommend one another to the truth and recommend one another to patience."

I guess moms do know everything :P hehehe

where am heading next?

i was reading booi's blog ( and kak ya's ( as well and surfing through some people's friendster (people that ive known) and im beginning to agree what kak ya said "people move on .. some with different group of friends.."

how funny is it that once upon a time we use to be friends, growing up together and with out much care in the world and hoping that our future be bright together. but a long the way of life, like all perfect fairytales there comes in our lives trials and tribulation, suffering and heart ache and pain. i endure for most part of it and in the end i came out bitter sweet.

i cant help to wonder that perhaps my experience with some people lead me to where i am today. i hate to be mean but perhaps to have gotten my feet stuck in shit because you had me turn into the direction that i had long ignored.

i suppose i should be grateful that fate had me known you even though we left with hatred in ourselves, and i was thinking that perhaps if it weren't for hate i would've not known love?

convocation when by like a blink of an eye.

time moves so quick that i almost trip.

exiting the hall after recieving my scroll.. i was overjoyed and i was sullen. i didnt know what to expect, and i didnt want to expect anything for fear that i may get hurt again for expecting so high. there werent pressent rushing to greet me once i stepped my feet out of the hall like for some of us, there werent as much flowers as others and there werent much jubilation as those shown in movies.

But there was faces that expected me to appear. i can see in their eyes the sense of happiness that you can only see when your friends gets married.

no i didnt have much pressents, though i did get a flower from my juniors (mokthar, rosma, fairuz), a dice from masnie, a mug from kak mashi and a pillow from ida (who tried to be my anonymous fan but failed hahaha) but what i had that was better than all of pressents in the world was to be with the people that gave me back my hopes, that made me chase my dreams stronger and those that taught me contentment; something i've been wanting all my life. to be contented.

there are unexpressed gratitude and thanks for these wonderful people that made the effort for me;

and last but not least.. masnie yg chumel :).

trimas utk mat jai for letting me crash his crib for the whole week.. hehe..

now im back in tawau, supposedly recharge and ready to go.. head on with anything that is given to me. but sometimes i waiver in the face of doom. i feel like i can't stand the pain anymore, i wanted to give and just be second best for anything ... but i know i can't, i can't fail my friends and i know i can't fail me.

Second Chance

Adrian was a man who believes in a second chance. He believes it so much that when evil strucks, he finds no despairs but hopes. He see's goodness beneath that lurking evil.

A second chance is all what we need, a second chance is what we need to change ourselves for the better or for the worse. A second chance is needed to learn the things that is lost from us, a second chance is for redemption.

But how many second chances do one gets? How many times does it take for us to learn our mistakes? How many times does it takes for me to learn my mistakes?

One? Two? or Three too many?

I take for granted the life that has been given to me. I feel like I'll lived a million years, that if I do no wrong in this borrowed life. But years go by and I've shorten my a million years of life to what maybe just till tomorow.

And yet I am repentless, I feel no evil and suffers nothing but perhaps begining of today.

What is this pain that reverberates inside of me?

It dawned on me that maybe tomorow is the begining of the end. An end, that is destined to all of us but of the parting ways we do not know off.

Stupidity is the caused of all men's falls. Stupidity, ignorance, lust and greed. The Hellish sins that some of us adopts so well.

A second chance is sometimes what we need at some times in our life. A new begining to a learnt lesson.

Wake up and grow up.

Slap yourself twice and maybe thrice, do what it takes to wake yourself from this illusion of forever. What kind of forever do you think you want to live in?

If only men realizes their follies.
If only I realizes my own follies.
Then perhaps I'll live a little longer.

To Serve and To Protect

To Serve and To Protect Posted by Picasa

My Lord, I have come of age.
But I feel life is nothing but a cage.

My Lord, I am old enough as of today,
But I feel life is short of the things I pray.

My Lord, Am I able to hold your words true?
Like a tree against the storm so cruel.

Why does my heart beats so unnaturally fast everytime His Highness walks by? Why does my hands grips unnaturally strong on this swords that I hold close to me? And my intuitions sharpens with the ticking of the clock.

Why is it that everytime His highness walks past, my hand naturally without commands or orders holds up against my forehead as a sign of submission. I don't understand where this feelings comes from. I am not of pure blood, or do I know of any connection. But yet here I am dreaming of one day walking by His side, my swords armed and ready and I'm prepared to lay my life for himyou.

Why am I the only one who feels such things? A man of lesser blood, it is not my position to dreams of such things. It is not!


Its weird to be of someone from this Age of time to be dreaming of such matters.


innocence Posted by Picasa

How foul your smile, seem to me is. The fakeness that lies beneath that sparkling white teeth hides nothing from my eyes. So you've come back from over the seas. To what have you come back to? You hold nothing dear to you here, only perhaps of your family. Other than that you're just like any of them, a pretender. A pretender who pretends that what he is, is better of that anyone of us here. A pretender that feels he doesn't belong here, claims to have been a better part of society. Yet you were born here, the blood that runs through you is bonded with this red earth that you so detested.

What are you now? A man with a changed conscience?

How can you speak the things you have no knowledge off?
How can you speak the things that made us who we are?
How can you deems imperfect and all of us flawed?

I see no more innocence in you, you are like a child that holds in a his hands a matchbox, you burn of the things that you hold no value of or you understand off. You strike your match against those that have courage to stand for who they are. You burn them with no regrets.


Your match cannot burn me, the fire would not bite my flesh. The heat my body will not succumb to and pain I will endure. With every match you light, I'll blow it out with every breath I've got.


Truth be told, I don't think I want to know you anymore. Money doesn't mean much to me, I really couldn't care less that you eat in expensive places, or that you have travel to Italy. What's the point of having all these things if people don't really like who you are? So you say 'f*ck em' to those who are indifference with you but do you really believe that you survive long without them? You seems to be a hard cookie on the outside, but you really don't fool my eyes. I see the core thats in you and you are nothing but a fake to the world. Without your father's money, you're absolutely nothing.

Dry reeds; testament of age

dry reeds; testament of age. Posted by Picasa

It's funny how nature can warp us back into reality. As I was pulling these dried dead weeds from the earth I couldn't help to think that I felt like the Angel of Death, pulling souls without mercy or regret. I didn't regret pulling those horrendously long weeds that plague my grandmother's land.

Is this what happens when my time is up? Is this how the Angel of Death pulls my soul from my mortal body? A sudden force that left me no time at all to say my goodbyes?

And the sudden pang of my hand as I pulled my hand back abruptly, the weeds have cut my hands. My hand now bleeds and the red liquid dribbles like a little foutain.

The weeds faded by time, just as we will be faded by time. Our colours will be lost and left behind will be our dull colours.

white beach of legends

white beach of legends Posted by Hello

The white beaches of Langkawi has seen so many legends told on its shores. It's white sandy beaches testifies to countless event in history that one can only imagine. Legends of love, of treachery, of famine and of invasions.
I have hopes for myself that this being of solid matter would someday be a of a legend. Legends that would be told again and again to generations after generations of my deed, of my actions of bravery and perhaps stories of love.

-to be continued-

Istana Lama Sri Menanti Kuala Pilah  Posted by Hello

Lilies in Langkawi

Lilies in Langkawi Posted by Hello

Putihnya darah Mashuri mengalir,
Mencecah bumi Langkawi masyhur.
Tabahnya hati, berkuburnya jati,
Nafsu berRaja, padahnya diri.

First attempt of being poetic in my mother tongue.

Blue Bangkok

-: Blue Bangkok :- Posted by Hello

Someone spoke to me in Thai when I was in Bangkok couple of months back. And I wondered WHO AM I?
Who am I that lives inside this mortal shell?
Am I what I think I am? Can someone tell?
Would my yellow skin show me the truth?
Would my blood give me the proof?
Who am I?
My aunt calls me 'Pisang' it means the same as being 'Oreo' coloured on the outside and white in the inside. I know who I am and I have not to prove anyone I am not. I didn't take the comment seriously, because I cannot deny the fact that I am 'Pisang'. But my 'White-ness' limits itself to my usage of the English medium, and not the mother tongue; other than that I am just as yellow as any other man.

The Road to Redemption Posted by Hello

The sweltering heat was unerving for me, a hell on earth as they would call it. It was dry and it was morbid. Sucking the very life that sustain your veryself; water.
Laying here with the heat that engulf me, my mind absorbed into desperation for coolness. The heat would not allow it, it thunders with might like some angered creature wanting to let loose.
What would you do when you look back along the road of history, all you can see is bleak of goodness. Every corner turn and every bend of the road there is this poignant blackness?
Tortured with this fever that erupts so suddenly. It made me think about the shitty things I have done and not be sorry for. If I can't stand this heat that envelopes me, how am I suppose to stand Hell?
Memories are either meant to be cherish or learnt from.

Do you see me?

I see you but do you see me? Posted by Hello

If only everytime you walk pass you realized,
That I have been standing here without fear.
If only everytime you walk pass you acknowledged,
That I will free your soul from this cage.

The Burial Ceremony of The Placenta @ Temuni (in Bahasa Minang).

The Burial Ceremony of The Placenta @ Temuni (in Bahasa Minang).
It wasn't as grand as it sounds, but the significance of it was way beyond my imagining because I did it myself. A simple gesture and a simple memory, but it was profound. There was no pomp, no grand elaborate ceremony but it was something to remember all my life. It was my ticket into adulthood. I was reminded of who I am. Muslim and Malay. Both teaches me the one thing that is amis in some people nowadays; Respect. Not just to the alived, but also to the dead. Not just to the humans, but also to the un-human.
There was no kompang, just silence of the woods.
There was no groups of people berzanji but a sole soul saying some sombre prayers.
There was no petals of flowers or scented water, but 4 mud bricks to ward of scavenging animals.
Dug a hole about 3 feet deep in the hot evening of about 5.00 pm, minutes after the time he was born. Dressed in black baju melayu I was sweating, I couldn't stop but had to continue. It was my destiny that I should do this. No matter how hot, the future of my nephew depends on me being a man for once in my lame ass life.
My grandmama looks on, probably laughing at me for being dramatic. She's taking pictures of me digging, like I've never dug earth before. It wasn't even a proper cangkul just one those thingimajig that you use to loosen the soil. It was hard work, but it was so much worth it.
The Temuni @ Placenta @ Uri was wrapped in a hospital green clothe. It smells anticeptic even after being put inside a box of mengkuang leaves (according to Minang tradition - weird come to think about it my grandmama is chinese by birth but she was brought up by my Minang Onyang) and wrapped in 3 layers of plastic bags. Had to remove the plastic bags first to ensure the steady decomposition of the placenta. Burying is one way of getting rid of the placenta but in a respectful manner, as always with the Malay custom, everything has to be done in a very respectful manner. So I buried it in 1 feet plus deep hole in the ground just beneath the limau perut tree, (no significance here, just thought it would be nice to bury it beneath a tree); accompany by words of:
"I seek Allah's protection from Shaitan (Satan) the rejected one. In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful."
Those words I said non-stop as I placed the bundle into the earth. I prayed to Allah that my nephew would always be under His protection and away from the nuisance of Syaitan (Satan). I placed back the dug up earth onto the bundle. Handful by handful, never by my feet and I make sure its covered fully. Took some bricks and placed on top, not as a mark but a deterant from scavenging animals. My grandmama said, we have to treat it like its human, because it was part of the baby. She said say some prayers, and I said what I usually say after the daily solat because to tell you the truth I know no other prayers.
It was as simple as that, and it was done. Buried it all the way in Kampong in the compound of my grandmama's house. All that done one thing left to do during this few weeks of the coming of the baby. Next up is the Aqiqah, which I would try to explain sometime later. Probably after the ceremony.
Menanam uri - Kebanyakan daripada kita tidak menghiraukan tentang kepentingan uri. Di saat-saat kegembiraan menerima ahli baru, seringkali uri dilupakan. Jika pihak keluaga tidak mengambil uri, klinik atau hospital mengumpulkan uri-uri itu dan didermakan kepada syarikat swasta. Kemudian uri itu diproses bagi memperolehi hormon yang terkandung di dalamnya. Hormon-hormon ini banyak digunakan dalam alat-alat kecantikan dan solekan. Sebahagian ibu bapa cuma membuangkannya dalam tong sampah tanpa memikirkan uri adalah teman rapat bayi di dalam kandungan. Uri amat penting kepada bayi. Orang tua dahulu mengamalkan cara menanam uri dengan baik. Mereka mencuci dan membalutnya dengan kain dan ditanam. Adab ini adalah baik kerana menghargai sesuatu." courtesy of nadheeto.

THANK GOODNESS I buried my nephew's. Sheesh..


If your fear death, then do not try to live.
If you fear to fail, then do not even try.
If you fear to lose someone, then do not even love.
If you fear old age, then do not grow.
But is there anyone alive; one without the other?

You will feel no contentment, if you do not give.
You will feel no compassion, if you cannot cry.

It dawned on me what I lack to understand the way of being a man, being a man one must strive for one path and yet be aware there is another path of the opposite. In life there is always the duality, the yin and yang, black and white and good and evil. To want one side of the path one must learn to accept the existence of the other.

If you must love or to fall in love, then you must accept the reality that there will be a time of falling out of love, or even hate. Nothing last forever in this lifetime of ours. Even the angels that seems to be in existence before us has an ending, so does Iblis (the Fallen angel) itself.

If you were prepare to want to be full of love, remember there will always be hatred in this world. There is no way of denying hatred but we do not have to embrace it, acknowledge it as way perhaps to realize its existence, but not to fear it. Fear something and in the end all else of evil will follow suite.

When there is a beginning there will always be an end. A story must end and so must the song. One story cannot continue endlessly, its not part of its nature. But the end, strive we must go for. Go for with a good ending, go for an end that leaves the heart happy and content so that when you try to move on with another story, a bitter taste the former does not leave within.

Being afraid of changes is what makes us human, being afraid lets us see our true feelings to certain matters. Being afraid let us see that there are things that means to us more than another. We feel afraid because of many things, but most probably because of changes. Changes that we cannot control, changes that are meant to happen and changes that leads us to another path of road while it leads others another.

I for one are afraid of changes, afraid that the change that is about to happen is not in my favour. I wanted everything to stay the way it is, I wanted to taste the honey and I did, God grant me the wish to taste the honey that was so elusive to me before. It was sweet, it was bitter and it was wonderful. Much of my waiting was paid of, and I got to stick my finger inside the pot full of honey. I didn’t understand why it took so long for this to happen, why it took time and time after endless test of faith before God finally let me dip my fingers. And now my honey pot is nearing emptiness, the honey has all but little run out. I wipe the inner side of the pot with my fingers, not one but the whole of my hand, trying as best I could to gather the little left honey. I had so much to begin with but my hunger for its sweetness has made me greedy and I suck on without much thought. The ecstasy was intoxicating; I was in another world, world that I have dreamed of since I was a child. But now, God wills it and the honey is all but nearly gone, God took time in giving me the chance to taste the honey because God understands my position. God wanting me to suffer and strive for the ultimate goal before giving me the way that I always wanted to go. God wanted me to learn appreciation and thanksgiving for the precious gift that was given to me.

The honey is nearly gone.
But I remembered well how it tasted like.
The honey is nearly gone.
But I remember how it looked like.
The honey is nearly gone.
But I still remember.
And I will never forget it.
It is forever mixed in the essence of me.

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