Monthly Archives: November 2014

To inspire nothing is to not live

By Rafiq Raji

blue sky

What sort of individual inspires nothing?

Breaths are not held for the joy of your sight

Scoffs are not instigated by the sound of your voice

No one desires what you have

No one wishes you gone

No one to wish you’d stay

To inspire love, hate, jealousy is to live

To not evoke emotions is nothingness

Far worse than nothingness

For nothingness itself fills a void for the doubt its existence evokes

When you enter a room, do you get noticed or do people continue tinkering with their lives?

Is there a void for good or ill by your absence?

Are there cries of regret and joy at the sight of your back?

Does your laughter brighten and dull faces?

Do your cries soften and harden hearts?

You inspire none of these?

Best to not live

Because to live is to exist

To exist is to matter

To matter is to evoke emotions

They are reactions to your existence

They are evidence of gifts for good or ill

Look to the heavens and say:

Not for naught have You bestowed these

Not for naught have You evoked these emotions

Not for naught have You created me.

Count your blessings

By Rafiq Raji

beach sunset

An ungrateful soul worries about an itch in his eye

Forgets to be grateful for his sight

An ungrateful soul worries about his slowing stride

Forgets to be grateful for the joy of walking

An ungrateful soul worries about the rumblings in his stomach

Forgets to be grateful for his appetite

An ungrateful soul worries about the fruit of his loins

Forgets to be grateful for the joy of birth

An ungrateful soul complains about the snoring by his side

Forgets to be grateful for the joy of love

An ungrateful soul worries about forgetfulness

Forgets to be grateful for burdens spared

An ungrateful soul worries overmuch

Forgets to be grateful for blessings abundant.

The Rumblings

violin

Dear one
What note are you singing now?
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
No? Beethoven’s Bagatelle?
Restless walls refuse silence
Another stroke, another rumbling
What chord are you striking now?
Come dear one, let’s be dear again.