Tuesday, February 05, 2008

repentance in qibla

seems like i lost again, oh my lord, tell me where do i start from now.

the scratch seems like a mark, everything is scarred now…

26 years have gone and my life remains still,

stagnant like the scar that was left on me since if i was five…

in the greatest battles of the obscured past,

your prophet raised his finger to ignite the spark

men died for him as he spoke, men lived for his name as i was told...

the burden of the holy tome, pushed inside my head centuries ago...

i’d die to be by his side, fail to even crawl so high…

oh please forgive me if i can’t follow when nothing seems the same around...

never questioned, never asked as to why i was here...

the hour of reckoning draws near,

i remember how nimrod perished under your might my lord…

and i remember how the prophet won the battles when outnumbered…

renew my faith my God, and sit in my heart…

contagion, evil resides in me; when faith doesn’t seem to warrant faith…

i stood up so high and waved my finger at you in disgust,

never thought i would go so high that i would hate you and want to die…

my strength was in the anarchy that i brandished; i felt you were never there for me…

but it was you who i always believed in but wasn’t allowed to complain to when i was rotting inside of me…

now i live with the stigmata and wait for my time to die…

but i look around and see people cry and curse the world for their plight…

hearts filled with gold, bodies of whores; to please they are sold…

you made us from sand and the world with elements of water, fire

yet they will not believe with open eyes…

in the greatest battles of the obscured past,

your prophet raised his finger to ignite the spark

men died for him as he spoke, men lived for his name as i was told...

the burden of the holy tome, pushed inside my head centuries ago...

i was a chamberlain in the house; i’d die to be by his side…

oh please forgive me if i couldn’t feel you to guide me through the lies in front of me…

open my eyes to see the ignorant bliss, step on itself as they repeat

their vile, their cheap parlor tricks…

the revelation is over with a click…

hearts filled with gold, bodies of whores; to please they are sold…

you made me with soul and them with elements of water, fire

yet i will not believe with my open eyes…

© 2007 khurram khan

1 comment:

from an underground tunnel for a graveyard in Rome said...

'Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still'


read both the post and these lines after a long time. couldn't resist this time.