After the Dazzle of Day

After the Dazzle of Day

After the dazzle of day is gone

Only the dark night shows to my eyes the stars;

After the clangor of organ majestic or chorus or perfect band

Silent athwart my soul moves the symphony true.
WALT WHITMAN.

decide to give or to lose

It's good to feel alive by the way you give. It's bad to find your friends or those around you playing ignorant when it comes to share their knowledge with you. How generous one should be not to fear giving away all in his hand.
Does a man lose if he let others learn part of what he's privileged to learn in the past?
Is life a game of gain and not to lose?

a poem about Christmas or Spring?

Spring; thou art close to the gates of our field,
When we are preparing for the partying friends.
Christmas, we celebrate thee in our hearts,
Wintry December lightens in our green memories of the past

"me said this poem bro"

Madinnah, Spring 2008

How I miss Hajj

I used to take practical Muslims as radical people. Then I changed and put a difference between being a true believer in God and a radical man. Now there is metamorphosis even deeper than what I expected. Faith in God helps humanity survive, no matter how practical you are or in what religion you find it.

My journey to Medinna and Mecca, spring this year, gave me a pause. I didn't expect it! I don't know whether the reader of these words has experienced Hajj or not? But as I should explain my journey to Islam, I would rather say that I expected a castle of opulence and luxury. Much to my surprise the very first look at the four black walls of Kabba rid me of all the burden I had carried all 28 years of my life as a human. I was depressed at the first sight but freed at the end.
One could find the people turning around the house of God as one stream of mankind, wearing no luxurious outfits but a towel in white and walking in bare feet! We all were as one! One nation, one dream, one God! How I miss Hajj, and how I wish to go back to the Masjed-al-Nabi in Medinna and talk to God with my soul in Mecca!

his 28th birthday

"I came from very far, sitting lonely on the moon. Where are you? I'm missing you! I'm sitting on the moon."

Before his eyes, was the past with the lady.

"What a gloomy world if she doesn't come back on my birthday!" said the young man in his abandoned sleep time under the starless murky sky, promising him a repetitively plain dream if gone to sleep.

He was missing the lady and couldn't hide it; his complex bursting into trickles of tear wetting his old white shirt, after midnight.

The young man was still thinking of the future with an annoying question of whether she would think of him or not? Did she care to come back? At least for the sake of his birthday on the 8th of August!

But she was gone a long time ago!

He was humming a song into the ears of the wind "where are you? I'm sitting on the moon. Where are you? I'm missing you!"

Could the wind take his heavy heart to the lady? Would she come home when she heard those words from the wind?

It was early at dawn and the young man still humming in his last breath "Where are you? I'm missing you!"

by Tony Hamilton