half past nomad

Patience itself must surely be a patient entity.
For time, it’s cousin, is met with smiles everytime.
A sunnah observed, a sunnah performed.

This will not be eloquent. This will be brief:

I’m moving again. This time, not cities, nor states. I’m flying out of DC to Lahore. Insha-allah, there I will be met by my mother, sister and monkey neice who surely misses her Waleed mamu when she remembers.

I’m not sure where I’m headed. I’m never sure when I move.
I just know that I have to walk confidently. Confident of my Rabb.

I have to run now.

“She had no stones to throw, no weapons to wield, only a young girl’s pure and idealistic heart for which she paid an exacting and irreplaceable price.”

I sit and stare at the screen, this orange burning site that lays infront of me.
and I don’t like it anymore, I don’t want to see it no more, I wish it no more.
I have changed, I have moved, I am dressing different, I am thinking different, I am being different, I am doing different, I am being I.

And I want to tear this down. I want to rip it apart with my bare hands, with my nails digging into the bricks of this existence. I want to smash it down, I want it to crash down, I want to go down to the very foundations of it and clash smash clatter smatter shatter together the metal, the bricks, the stone and let it all burn.
Burn.
And start a fire that will reach to the skies itself.
Right through me, to the cries above.
Silent screams, screaming whispers and an uff like no other.

I’m going to change this, I swear by You.

It’s re-time.