Please do not define me; I may be smaller than your definition, or bigger than its shape! It may be a definition of just a visible portion of me, and a mass in me will remain undefined; I may not be still and might form patterns of a kaleidoscope through the evolution of time. I may not have depth, or I am fathomless.
I am in my workshop – without chisels and hammer, a silent chamber of thoughts with cracked windows letting in bright light - and I am weaving words with beads of letters, colourful at that, to lay them on sentences and to spread on them my expressions of love and care…a hug for the un-hugged, a touch for the un-touched, patience to the tempered, silence to the un-heard…or just a look for the unseen…and more.
I am that wandering kite in the mid-night sky; the flight through the unknown is itself my destination! I am that flickering lantern in the middle of a humming desert; the fight with the wings of wind is alone my plight! I am that glimmering words in the eyes of a child; the unspoken sound of thoughts is a veil before my life.
I am lover of words and shaper of thoughts; pride of the proud and envy of the envious; the flame to light, fire to fight; the spring to irrigate, the tide to eradicate; put together the pieces of you and me, we become the soul of peace.
I am an oscillation between openness and concealment; between fear and confidence; between joy and sorrow; between fantasy and reality; I am at times a palette full of colours, and at times I am the canvas. I am real. I am virtual.
Who am I? I am who you make of me; my stretched hands are meant to hug, if that’s what you longed for, or they are the measure of distance that I keep of you if that’s what you demand for; my smile is an embodiment of gratitude and contentment for your presence in my life, or it is an acknowledgement of your wickedness that you hide in vain; who am I? I am a representation of you, a response to your thoughts, a reflection of your image, a symbol of your existence.
My hopes are driven by my dreams; my dreams are propelled by my vision; my vision is an indicator of my character; my character is better than my reputation; my reputation is what you think I am; I am what I think I want to be; and yet, I can only be what you would help me to be…
I love the deafening sound of silence; I love the blinding colour of darkness; I love the rib-breaking sense of sadness; I love the crowded thoughts in loneliness; I love them, for they all teaches me lessons of life – the value of sound, the diverse colours of life, the causes of joy and the reasons to love. Moreover, it teaches me why you are important!
Not the toughness of my structure; not my voice that sound ruptured; not the wrinkles on my skin; not the names of my kin; not the gel on my hair; not the watch I wear; Oh it’s in my heart that I cherish the values that I live by, explore them, O! World as you naively chose to pass by.
I am in my workshop – without chisels and hammer, a silent chamber of thoughts with cracked windows letting in bright light - and I am weaving words with beads of letters, colourful at that, to lay them on sentences and to spread on them my expressions of love and care…a hug for the un-hugged, a touch for the un-touched, patience to the tempered, silence to the un-heard…or just a look for the unseen…and more.
I am that wandering kite in the mid-night sky; the flight through the unknown is itself my destination! I am that flickering lantern in the middle of a humming desert; the fight with the wings of wind is alone my plight! I am that glimmering words in the eyes of a child; the unspoken sound of thoughts is a veil before my life.
I am lover of words and shaper of thoughts; pride of the proud and envy of the envious; the flame to light, fire to fight; the spring to irrigate, the tide to eradicate; put together the pieces of you and me, we become the soul of peace.
I am an oscillation between openness and concealment; between fear and confidence; between joy and sorrow; between fantasy and reality; I am at times a palette full of colours, and at times I am the canvas. I am real. I am virtual.
Who am I? I am who you make of me; my stretched hands are meant to hug, if that’s what you longed for, or they are the measure of distance that I keep of you if that’s what you demand for; my smile is an embodiment of gratitude and contentment for your presence in my life, or it is an acknowledgement of your wickedness that you hide in vain; who am I? I am a representation of you, a response to your thoughts, a reflection of your image, a symbol of your existence.
My hopes are driven by my dreams; my dreams are propelled by my vision; my vision is an indicator of my character; my character is better than my reputation; my reputation is what you think I am; I am what I think I want to be; and yet, I can only be what you would help me to be…
I love the deafening sound of silence; I love the blinding colour of darkness; I love the rib-breaking sense of sadness; I love the crowded thoughts in loneliness; I love them, for they all teaches me lessons of life – the value of sound, the diverse colours of life, the causes of joy and the reasons to love. Moreover, it teaches me why you are important!
Not the toughness of my structure; not my voice that sound ruptured; not the wrinkles on my skin; not the names of my kin; not the gel on my hair; not the watch I wear; Oh it’s in my heart that I cherish the values that I live by, explore them, O! World as you naively chose to pass by.
You must be good if you are hearing what I am saying; O! how great you must be if you are listening to what I haven’t said…
Shahir.
Note: these are a reflection of self over the last two months, and if they seem to be inconsistent, or meaningless, that's what is perhaps what it is meant to be - the ever changing dynamism of human evolution; the inconsistency of definition is only to highlight the irrelevance of attempt to define...because the definition cannot be constant)
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