Tag Archives: Underground

The Opera of Obscurity:

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My yearning for Isolation:

I wish I were still in the womb.
I’d like to call it my birth-tomb.

It is just like a Cocoon, in it I am wrapped inside.
Divorced from the world, my perfect way to hide.

Protected, unjudged, allowed to be free, and unplugged.

No one’s here to disturb or mock me.
I’m in a place no one can enter or see.

My privacy is an actuality, not just a mere ideal.
I want true peace of mind, something that’s real.

In the outside world, I feel hated, unwanted and unloved.

The Facade that I’ve established:

People always say, “Wow…you’re a really good brother.”.
But, when I see myself, I only really see myself as another.

I see utter ugliness that’s within me, that I don’t want to be revealed.
So far, I’ve done a lot to keep the skeletons in my closet concealed.

However, the truth is all known to Allah, I can’t hide anything from Him.
Don’t be surprised that when I die, my legacy ends up looking quite dim.

Oftentimes, the truth about people are never discovered, until after their demise.
What they hide from the world eventually gets exposed, what an ironic surprise.

My only hope is that Allah spare me embarrassment in death, the way He’s spared me in life.

The Lifelong Road:

Never did I ever think that my odyssey to find myself would make me even more lost.

However, I must stay the course, find what I’m still looking for, regardless of the cost.

What I need to discover is more important than the pain of treading the road to find it.

Everything in life is hard; however, giving up makes nothing any easier.

It’s better to struggle and never win, than to settle for being the looser.

This world is like a puzzle & I must remove all of the pieces in my life which don’t fit.

This life is but a dense forest; yet, I must clear my own path.

And, it must be done right, to secure me from Allah’s wrath.

Gareth Bryant/2012

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My thoughts about the Rain:

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The Rivers of the Street!!!

When it rains, it pours, as the torrential bathing of New York, keeps us wet & cold.
Winds direct this Rain, to every corner, block & sidewalk; it just does what it’s told.

The day-long down-pour, from the Sky, funnels down avenues & alleyways.
The Storm-Clouds are gray, thick & heavy, with Water; there are no Sun-rays.

At every corner, there’s a junction of the Rivers of the Street.
Storm drains are where all these mighty concrete Rapids meet.

The homeless dwellers, of our underground city, use these rains, to shower.
They only get one chance to get clean; sometimes it rains less than an hour.

For them, these Rains represent hope, that Allah has not abandoned nor forgotten them.
They just take what they can get; it’s nothing to us; to them, the Rain is a precious gem.

So, the next time that we complain, about the Rain, we ought to be more grateful.
This Water, from the Sky, nourishes the Earth, making plants grow big & fruitful.

The next time we get drenched, we should think about our poor, homeless counterparts.
We don’t care how it feels, being at the bottom of the barrel; it doesn’t affect our hearts.

They’re the homeless, living in Train Stations & Sewers; they wait & hope for the Rain.
We ignore them, without realizing that they’re those whose only lifeline is a Storm drain.

Gareth Bryant/2009