Rebirth

 

My rebirth

January 27 2016, I still remembered that day. I was a lonely human with no purpose or meaning in my life (or so I thought) wandering through the sea of darkness helplessly trying to find the light.

No matter how much I ran, it was always like an endless road, soon my strength ebbed away from me and I was lying still with a shattered soul.

Who was I, I couldn’t say, I had lost my personal identity.

My eyes were blinded by hatred; the truth was shrouded in darkness.

I was dead inside.

 

“Enough is enough!” I said to myself. I was driven by insanity, I was burning in anguish.  That fateful decision was  made quickly before time ran out, I knew my days were numbered. I was walking down the path that almost led to my destruction! My fate was sealed.

 

But one day, two angels descended from the Kingdom of light in the form of a human being. Their hearts were clear as a mirror, eyes full of hope. An aura of love surrounded their body. They used the holy light to open my eyes; I could now finally see the truth, even though I am limited in my physical body, I must soar higher in the sky and break every barrier that comes my way.

My world was covered in light once again…

 

*Note: There is no honor in taking your life, always remember this “Live with honor, fight with honor and die with honor”.

Contributed by:

Raihan Musa, a man who doesn’t let limits differentiate him from others, but uses them to illustrate to others that the only one that can set a limit is the individual.

New Sprint

I can’t hear myself think!

I’m invisible ink

Your eyes are ultra violet

enabling you to interpret

in the time it takes to blink

that I’m out of sync

with my immediate surroundings

how can you be so understanding,

when the rest of the world is demanding?

While my pen’s purpose is unclear

with you here

there is no cause for frequent fear

And I will remain of good cheer

My momentary melancholy appears

to disappear

as lots and lots

of dots…

accompanied by rorschach ink blots

along with scrapped plots

have transformed these thoughts

into Gordian knots

still I refuse

to forget my muse

even if the struggle is of no use

futile efforts shall produce

one line of genuinely good news