"And the soul underneath...
It is all that remains."

"As I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. The trees in the storm don't try to stand up straight and tall and erect. They allow themselves to bend and be blown with the wind. They understand the power of letting go. Those trees and those branches that try too hard to stand up strong and straight are the ones that break. Now is not the time for you to be strong, Julia, or you, too, will break. "

Arranged Marriage More Holy?

Ok, I wanted to dedicate this post to discussing an issue that really irks me. I have had many conversations with Muslims (especially Desis) who are under the impression that 'love marriages' (i.e. marrying someone you love, have a connection with, or are attracted to) is somehow wrong or un-Islamic, and that marrying someone you don't know at all is more 'holy' or 'pure'.

The thing is, looking at Islamic sources makes it clear that much of these conceptions come from culture (some of it just reactionary)--not Islam. And while of course Islam prohibits dating, saying that one should marry without regard to mutual affection and attraction, could not be further from the truth.

Allow me to demonstrate:

Allah says what is translated as: "There is no blame on you if ye make an offer of betrothal or hold it in your hearts. Allah knows that ye cherish them in your hearts: But do not make a secret contract with them except in terms Honourable, nor resolve on the tie of marriage till the term prescribed (waiting period or 'iddah) is fulfilled. And know that Allah Knoweth what is in your hearts, and take heed of Him; and know that Allah is Oft-forgiving, Most Forbearing" (Quran 2:235).

Here Allah says: "There is no blame on you if you make an offer of betrothal or hold it in your hearts. Allah knows that ye cherish them in your hearts." This is all in reference to betrothal--which is BEFORE marriage. Clearly that emotion which is 'held in your heart' is existing before marriage and is assumed to be a motivation for that offer of marriage.

The Quran also says: "And do not marry the idolatresses until they believe, and certainly a believing maid is better than an idolatress woman, even if she pleases you; and do not give (believing women) in marriage to idolaters until they believe, and certainly a believing servant is better than an idolater, even if she pleases you; these invite to the fire, and Allah invites to the garden and to forgiveness by His will, and makes clear His communications to men, that they may be mindful" (Quran 2:221).

Hence this feeling of liking or infatuation or admiration, referred to as '3ajab' in the Quran, does exist before marriage and is usually considered a motivation for marriage--which is why it is being said 'EVEN IF...' for the case of idolatresses.

Furthermore, Muslim reported Abu Hurairah as saying that a man came to the Prophet (peace be on him) and told him that he had contracted to marry a woman of the Ansar.
"Did you look at her?" the Prophet (peace be on him) asked.
"No," he said,
"Then go and look at her," said the Prophet (peace be on him),
"For there is something in the eyes of the Ansar,"
Al-Mughira ibn Shuh'bah said, I asked for a woman in marriage and Allah's Messenger (peace be on him) asked me whether I had looked at her. When I replied that I had not, he said "Then look at her, for it may produce love between you."

"I never heard the bang.
I awoke after five minutes...
or five seconds...
to a changed world.
For a moment,
I was free of feeling...
Love, hate, jealousy.

And it all felt like happiness."



.

If I Could

I love my sister.

I know she underappreciates herself too much. I wish I had something wise to say to her...
But the truth is we're all just blind, stumbling souls...


Nobody else here baby
No one here to blame
No one to point the finger
It's just you and me and the rain
It's the blind leading the blind

--U2


If I Could
I'd protect you from the sadness in your eyes
Give you courage in a world of compromise
Yes I would
If I could
I would teach you all the things
I've never learned
And I'd help you cross the bridges that I've burned
Yes I would
If I could
I would try to shield your innocence from time
But the part of life I gave you isn't mine
I've watched you grow
So I could let you go
If I could
I would help you make it through the hungry years
But I know that I can never cry your tears...

But I would
If I could

The Snow

In this quiet stillness,
I hear only whispers
and heartbeats across the room.

If I closed my eyes
just tight enough,
I could see the silence.

But maybe, just maybe
this time
the silence is within.
And maybe,
no one else can hear it
but me.

Maybe this time,
I got it right.
Maybe this time,
I'll find my way.
I'll know Your face,
I'll feel Your light.
Maybe this time,
I will not fall.

The world seems
to have stopped
suddenly in its tracks.
Is it waiting for me?
I'm catching up.
At least I've tried.
My feet at work.
Yet have I moved?

Snow said 'yes',
but did not wait.
I need my coat,
I need those shoes.

With closed eyes,
I look above,
My hands are cold,
my limbs are numb.
I guess that snow
still did come.
--Yasmin M.

She say it's cold outside
and she hands me my raincoat
She's always worried about things like that
She says it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault

And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
Says the rain's gonna wash away
I believe it

She's got a little bit of something,
God it's better than nothing
And in her color portrait world
she believes that she's got it all
She swears the moon don't hang
quite as high as it used to

And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
Says the rain's gonna wash away
I believe it

She believes that life is made up of all that you're used to
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days, and days
She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway...

But outside it stopped raining

--Matchbox 20

Of the Angel

Let me be empty
and weightless
and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight.

In the arms of the angel,
fly away from here.

--Sarah Mclachlan

In You

There's always something in the way
There's always something getting through
But it's not me
it's You

Sometimes ignorance rings true
But hope is not in what I know
Not in me
It's in You
It's in You

It's all I know
It's all I know
It's all I know

And I find peace
When I'm confused
I find hope when I'm let down
Not in me
But in You

I hope to lose myself for good
I hope to find it in the end
Not in me
In You
In You
In You

It's all I know
It's all I know
It's all I know

in You
in You
its in You
its in You

there's always something in the way
there's always something getting through
but it's not me
it's You
it's You
it's You

--Switchfoot

Niche

I've decided to start posting some of my old poems. I used to write a lot more than I do now. Maybe I should start again...

Niche

My bones want to melt
My muscles want to let go
My body wants to stop
Walking,
Struggling
Fighting,
for air,
for life.

My mind painted a picture for me,
But now it’s all in black and white.
The trees are bent, tired, closed.
My heart, the same
But still, my thoughts keep talking,
Walking,
Struggling,
Fighting,
For air,
For life.

How can you erase a picture so clear,
So real?
Tell me how to erase myself from it,
And lay, my own tired steps to rest.
I see
I’m stumbling,
Not walking.
I’m tripping now
Not talking.

There’s a pain inside my chest
Born of silence, grief, unrest
Who’s there but me to claim it?
Who knows but me to name it?

I’m sorry for my apathy,
My lassitude at dawn.
I’m circling now through forests
Trying to find my niche.

Has inspiration come to me?
Whose voice is it I hear?
My own is sharp and deafening.
Who else could know my name?

It is only through His kindness
That the heart can speak
When the mind and body
are numb,
Only dragging.

Please come,
If only to quiet my thoughts.

I’m circling forests
On wings
Still searching for my niche.
I’m no longer
Walking,
Struggling,
Fighting.
I’ve won the air
I’ve won my life.

--Yasmin M.

A Speech To Tell the World

I wrote this when I was 17. I guess there's a part of our soul that never changes...:

A Speech To Tell the World

If I had a speech to give the world tomorrow, it would go like this:

"World, open your eyes. Look beyond yourselves and find the Truth. I have found it but am too weak to own it. Never be weak. But if you are strong, do not be proud. Look beyond the surface of things, deep in to their meaning. For the secrets of life are found beneath every hardship and every smile. Do not cry for what has passed you by. Learn not to yearn for what can never by yours. Understand that even prayer is not magic. A man's body may bow without his soul. Do not be so arrogant as to believe that God will knock on your door, for He has no need for you or I. You must strive toward God, who will then, and only then, come towards you. You must strive and struggle for all that you want. Know that this life was not meant to be easy, for then what would the next be called. Understand that happiness is like a tree. God gave you the seeds, the sun, and the rain, but only you can make it grow. Do not wait your whole life for a dream. Make the most of every moment of every single day, for truly it may be your last. Finally, know that the life of this world is but play and amusement. So fear a day when no father shall prevail for his son, and no son for his father. Fear a day when all will remember, 'but how will that remembrance profit them then (89:23).'"

I'm absolutely in love with this.
What I wouldn't give to be there now.


"I yelled back when I heard thunder.
But I'm down to one last prayer"
--Creed

Streets of Philadelphia

I think this is probably one of the saddest songs ever.
This man is so completely defeated and alone...


I was bruised and battered
I couldn’t tell what I felt
I was unrecognizable to myself

Saw my reflection in a window
didn’t know my own face
Oh brother are you gonna leave me
Wastin´away
On the streets of philadelphia

I walked the avenue till my legs felt like stone
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone
At night I could hear the blood in my veins
Black and whispering as the rain
On the streets of philadelphia

Ain’t no angel gonna greet me
It’s just you and I my friend
And my clothes don’t fit me no more
I walked a thousand miles
Just to slip this skin

The night has fallen,
I’m lyin’awake
I can feel myself fading away

So receive me brother with your faithless kiss
Or will we leave each other alone like this
On the streets of philadelphia

--Bruce Springsteen

Clooney said he experienced a personal revelation when "Syriana" was filming in Morocco during the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan. Clooney said he was stunned to see the entire city come to a standstill during prayer time.

"Anyone that thinks that you could just go and bomb this idea out of people's heads hasn't sat on the top of a building and looked at a group of people who had absolutely nothing but their beliefs in their religion"

--George Clooney

A Letter From A Daughter of Iraq

A Letter to the British People from a Daughter of Iraq

By Iman al-Saadun
Friday, 8 July 2005

I‘m sending this letter to the British people and in particular to the residents of London. For a period of hours, you have lived through moments of desperate anxiety and horror. In those hours you lost a member of your family or a friend, and we wish to tell you in total honesty that we too grieve when human lives pass away. I cannot tell you how much we hurt when we see desperation and pain on the face of another person. For we have lived through this situation and continue to live through it every day since your country and the United States of America formed an alliance and laid plans to attack Iraq.

The Prime Minister of your country, Tony Blair, said that those who carried out the explosions did so in the name of Islam. The Secretary of State of the United States of America, Condaleezza Rice, described the bombings as an act of barbarism. The United Nations Security Council met and unanimously condemned the event.

I would like to ask you, the free British people, to allow me to inquire: in whose name was our country blockaded for 12 years? In whose name were our cities bombed using internationally prohibited weapons? In whose name did the British army kill Iraqis and torture them? Was that in your name? Or in the name of religion? Or humanity? Or freedom? Or democracy?

What do you call the killing of more than two million children? What do you call the pollution of the soil and the water with Depleted Uranium and other lethal substances? What do you call what happened in the prisons in Iraq in Abu Ghraib, CampBucca and the many other prison camps? What do you call the torture of men, women, and children? What do you call tying bombs to the bodies of prisoners and blowing them apart? What do you call the refinement of methods of torture for use on Iraqi prisoners, such as pulling off limbs, gouging out eyes, putting out cigarettes on their skin, and using cigarette lighters to set fire to the hair on their heads?

Does the word barbaric adequately describe the behaviour of your troops in Iraq? May we ask why the Security Council did not condemn the massacre in al-Amiriyah and what happened in al-Fallujah, Tal afar, Sadr City, andan-Najaf? Why does the world watch as our people are killed and tortured and not condemn the crimes being committed against us? Are you human beings and we something less? Do you think that only you can feel pain and we can’t?

In fact it is we who are most aware of how intense is the pain of the mother who has lost her child, or the father who has lost his family. We know very well how painful it is to lose those you love. You don’t know our martyrs, but we know them. You don’t remember them, but we remember them. You don’t cry over them, but we cry over them. Have you heard the name of the little girl Hannan Salih Matrud? Or of the boy Ahmad Jabir Karim? Or Sa’id Shabram?

Yes, our dead have names too.

They have faces and stories and memories. There was a time when they were among us, laughing and playing. They had dreams, just as you have. They had a tomorrow awaiting them. But today they sleep among us with no tomorrow on which to wake.

"He closed his eyes and listened. Sky-song was gone. The wind moved through the trees, he knew it, but he could not hear the leaves fluttering. Earth voice died, and firesong, and waterspeech, and the sound of the growing of the grass all around him. Rainsong faded away, and then the thunder that was all and encompassed him, devoured him—that, too, died into the distance, and he strained for its echoes on the horizon, but none came.

He opened his eyes. Ceolene’s lips moved, but no sound came from her. Desperately, he cast out—for anything, any sound, any noise at all, anything to devour and consume him, but none came.

None came.

He glanced at the spear, but its length had faded to dull grey ash, and he closed his eyes again and cried out, a low, vibrating, terrible burning cry that echoed beyond the heavens and the earth, into death and life, until the very stars flickered and dimmed to hear his cry—but still he could not hear it, nor would he ever hear again.

....

Even that, the sound of their tears hitting the earth—even that he could not hear. Then, somewhere in the depths of his mind, and even resonating out over the fields all around him, for them to hear in a way—there came a voice. Her voice, laden with bells and overtones of wolves, a chorus singing adoration behind each syllable, and screams hidden in each phrase.

Her voice, dark and vibrant, low alto and baritone, bass that vibrated eardrums. Her voice, light and sweet, a high pitched noise beyond comprehension, that sent ripples in a shining sea, that woke the sun each morning—thin silvery bells and a high flute over all.

Universe song, and earth song—planet and sun song, star song, and the songs of the dark lonely distances between. Sand swept from the top of a desert dune; dolphin shrill, the sound of the smallest ant climbing the tallest tree.

Rain over grass, and fire devouring wood. Human voice, past, and present—and thousands of voices yet to come in the future. Language upon language unknown and unknowing, above and beyond every soul that had ever lived. Newborn cry, the wailing of women; ecstasy into the night, and dark drugs and green windswept pastures, horse and rider, shod hooves upon cobblestones.

Sounds, octaves, ranges uncomprehended—every score of music unwritten, every song unsung—the sound of the battle, blade on blade, the sound of the dying and the sound of the dead.

Arguments unfinished. Fist striking bone. Blood forth from a wound.The sound of wept tears falling onto the earth—each droplet raising a tiny puff of dust from the dry field.The sound of wind and the sound of hope and the thin infinitesimal sound of the breaking of someone’s heart.

....

Khyriad closed his eyes and let the noise sweep over him—life song, heart song, death song, and hope—and over it all, the steady low rumble of thunder that fell over the earth and faded away in waves—thunder, his noise, the sound of the storm and the stars glittering in an ebony velvet sky."

--Kristen M. Jones

Steering

When I was at hajj, I had a dream that I was inside a room, that was inside a large truck. U got up from the drivers seat and went out of the truck. So then no one was driving. But the truck was fine. The truck continued to move and was driving perfectly straight and fine, without anyone in the driver's seat.

But a little later I got up and sat in the drivers seat and tried to steer myself. At that point, the truck started weaving and going out of control. I was just barely dodging cars and trees.

MORAL: Stop trying to steer. Let go and put your trust in Allah. He'll take care of everything...perfectly...as He already has with everything else.

SUBHANNALLAH!! I've always loved this ayah. I never knew it's context:

"Thus when they fulfil their term appointed, either take them back on equitable terms or part with them on equitable terms; and take for witness two persons from among you, endued with justice, and establish the evidence (as) before Allah. Such is the admonition given to him who believes in Allah and the Last Day. And for those who fear Allah, He (ever) prepares a way out, and He provides for him from (sources) he never could imagine. And if any one puts his trust in Allah, sufficient is ((Allah)) for him. For Allah will surely accomplish his purpose: verily, for all things has Allah appointed a due proportion" (Surah Al Talaq: 2-3).

Live to Tell

I have a tale to tell.
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well.
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall.

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well.
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned
Till then it will burn inside of me.

I know where beauty lives.
I've seen it once
I know the one she gives.
The light that you could never see.
It shines inside
you can't take that from me.

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well.
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned
Till then it will burn inside of me.

The truth is never far behind
you kept it hidden well.
If I live to tell the secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again?

If I ran away I'd never have the strength to go very far.
How would they hear the beating of my heart?
Will it go cold (will it go cold?) the secret that I hide -
will I grow old?
How would they hear?
When will they learn.?
How would they know?

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well.
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned
Till then it will burn inside of me.
The truth is never far behind
you kept it hidden well.
If I live to tell the secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again?

Freedom

Pride and Prejudice

“Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you… I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.”

--Pride and Prejudice

“You must know - surely you must know that it was all for you… I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul and I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day forward.”

--Pride and Prejudice

Real Boys

"I believe that boys, feeling ashamed of their vulnerability, mask their emotions and ultimately their true selves. This unnecessary disconnection--from family and then from self--causes many boys to feel alone, helpless, and fearful. And yet society's prevailing myths about boys do not leave room for such emotions, and so the boy feels he is not measuring up. He has no way to talk about his perceived failure; he feels ashamed, but he can't talk about his shame, either. Over time, his sensitivity is submerged almost without thinking, until he loses touch with it himself. And so a boy bas become 'hardened,' just as society thinks he should be."

--Real Boys


"Researchers have found that at birth, and for several months afterward, male infants are actually more emotionally expressive than female babies. But by the time boys reach elementary school much of their emotional expressiveness has been lost or has gone underground. Boys at five or six become less likely than girls to express hurt or distress, either to their teachers or to their own parents. Many parents have asked me what triggers this remarkable transformation, this squelching of a boy's natural emotional expressiveness. What makes a boy who was open and exuberant unwilling to show the whole range of his emotions?

Recent research points to two primary causes for this change, and both of them grow out of assumptions about and attitudes towards boys that are deeply ingrained in the codes of our society.

The first reason is the use of shame in the toughening-up process by which it's assumed boys need to be raised. Little boys are made to feel ashamed of their feelings, guilty especially about feelings of weakness, vulnerability, fear, and despair.

The second reason is the separation process as it applies to boys, the emphasis society places on a boy's separating emotionally from his mother at an unnecessarily early age, usually by the time the boys are six years old and then again in adolescence. "

--Real Boys

So Sad and So Real

Today I saw a woman I know leaning up against a table. Her eyes were filled with emotion so I stopped and asked her if she was sick. I wasn't prepared for her answer. It always catches me off guard when people are real with me. I've come to expect the mask that everyone wears, and the act that they all put on.

So she looked at me and she said, "Yes. Who isn't? Isn't everyone sick in this world? Is anyone really happy?" I immediately understood where she was at, so I took a step closer to her and hugged her. She went on.

"You come one day when you get older and wonder where your life went." And then she starts to cry as she says, "And looking at your children you think to yourself, just yesterday I was a child like that, and now I'm the mother and you realize that you've never lived your life, that you've never been happy. And you wonder where it's all gone."

As she was talking I found myself starting to cry. And it was weird because, I wasn't just crying with her. I was crying *for* her. I understood. I understood.

Later before I left, she came out to tell me something. She said, "Let me give you some advice from my experience. I spent my life eating at my soul, letting everything get to me, getting upset about everything, always asking why, why, why about everything. It's not worth it. None of it is. Don't let any of it get to you. This life is too short. Put it all in a bag and throw it in the sea. It's not worth it. Strengthen your heart, and don't let any of it affect you. Just keep pure with God, and live your life, don't let any of them get to you--as long as you're pure with God. This life is too short. Don't let any of it get to you. It's just not worth it. Live your life."

It was as if this woman was looking right through me and reading a familiar book. I hardly know this woman, and she knows nothing of me. But for some reason she shared that with me, and the pain and sincerity behind her words affected me for a very long time. Her words weren't lines from a movie, or a cliched quotation about how life *should* be. No. Her words were about how life *is*. Her words were real...real pain...real disappointment, from real life. And so it hit me hard and deep, and I honored and respected what she gave me.

So glad tidings to the strangers.

I reach for shadows.

Anna Begins

My friend assures me it’s all or nothing
I am not worried- I am not overly concerned
My friend implores me for one time only,
Make an exception. I am not not worried

Wrap her up in a package of lies
Send her off to a coconut island
I am not worried -
I am not overly concerned with the status of my emotions
Oh, she says, were changing.
But were always changing
It does not bother me to say this isn’t love
Because if you don’t want to talk about it, then it isn’t love

And I guess I’m going to have to live with that
But, I’m sure there’s something in a shade of gray
Or something in between
And I can always change my name if that’s what you mean

My friend assures me it’s all or nothing`
But I am not really worried
I am not overly concerned

You try to tell yourself
the things you try tell yourself
to make yourself forget
To make yourself forget
I am not worried

If it’s love she said,
then were gonna have to think about the consequences
She can’t stop shaking and I can t stop touching her
And this time when kindness falls like rain
It washes her away and anna begins to change her mind
These seconds when I’m shaking leave me shuddering
For days she says.
And I’m not ready for this sort of thing

But I’m not gonna break
And I’m not going to worry about it anymore
I’m not gonna bend. and I’m not gonna break and
I’m not gonna worry about it anymore

It seems like I should say as long as this is love...
But it’s not all that easy
so maybe I should just
Snap her up in a butterfly net-
Pin her down on a photograph album.
I am not worried.
I’ve done this sort of thing before.
But then I start to think about the consequences
Because I don’t get no sleep in a quiet room

And this time when kindness falls like rain
It washes me away and anna begins to change my mind
And every time she sneezes I believe it’s love
And oh lord.... I’m not ready for this sort of thing

She s talking in her sleep-it s keeping me awake
And anna begins to toss and turn
And every word is nonsense--but I understand it
And oh Lord, I m not ready for this sort of thing

Her kindness bangs a gong
It’s moving me along
and anna begins to fade away
It s chasing me away.
She dissappears.
And oh lord,
I’m not ready for this sort of thing

whatever

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fogWhere no one notices the contrast of white on whiteAnd in between the moon and you the angels get a better viewOf the crumbling difference between wrong and rightI walk in the air between the rain through myself and back againWhere? I don’t knowMaria says she’s dying through the door I hear her cryingWhy? I don’t knowRound here we always stand up straightRound here something radiatesMaria came from nashville with a suitcase in her handShe said she’d like to meet a boy who looks like elvisShe walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the landJust like she’s walking on a wire in the circusShe parks her car outside of my houseTakes her clothes offSays she’s close to understanding jesusShe knows she’s more than just a little misunderstoodShe has trouble acting normal when she’s nervousRound here we’re carving out our namesRound here we all look the sameRound here we talk just like lionsBut we sacrifice like lambsRound here she’s slipping through my handsSleeping children better run like the windOut of the lightning dreamMama’s little baby better get herself inOut of the lightningShe says it’s only in my headShe says shhh I know it’s only in my headBut the girl on car in the parking lot says’man you should try to take a shotCan’t you see my walls are crumbling? ’Then she looks up at the building and says she’s thinking of jumpingShe says she’s tired of life she must be tired of somethingRound here she’s always on my mindRound here hey man got lots of timeRound here we’re never sent to bed earlyAnd nobody makes us waitRound here we stay up very, very, very, very late

I can’t see nothing, nothing round here
Catch me if I’m falling

Beyond the Crossroads

We are all searching for something. And so in a sense, each of us is on a journey to somewhere. It's a long road. Some people spend their whole lives searching, but never arrive. Others arrive, without even knowing that they have.

The most painful part of the journey are the illusions. And just like the mirage of the desert, every path has them. These are those images we mistaken for our dreams. But when we reach out to touch them, they disappear. And only then do we realize that they were never real.

At this point, the traveler has one of two options. They may stop. The disillusionment being too hard to bear, they forsake the search. Or they may fall, rest, stop for a while. They admit their defeat, cry, feel humiliation, and become acutely aware of their humanness and utter blindness. And then after having been humbled and in that way sofened, they can stand again.

They keep walking.

The most fortunate are those who can one day come, look around them, and smile--from the inside...Realizing that what they seek can never be found out there, because it was with them all along.

And by that I don't mean that through some sort of self-worship, one can reach enlightenment. No. What I mean is God is not a destination...He is a path....And the only path to peace.

I'm not there yet. But I think I'm ready to start walking again.

Possibly The Greatest Song of All Time

We were drawn from the weeds
We were brave like soldiers
Falling down under the pale moonlight

You were holding to me
Like a someone broken
And I couldn't tell you
but I'm telling you now

Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down
Fall on me
Tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you forever in me
Ever the same

We would stand in the wind
We were free like water
Flowing down
Under the warmth of the sun

Now it's cold and we're scared
And we've both been shaken
Hey, look at us
Man, this doesn't need to be the end

Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down
Fall on me tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you
Forever in me
Ever the same

Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same

You may need me there
To carry all your weight
But you're no burden I assure
You tide me over
With a warmth I'll not forget
But I can only give you love

Fall on me tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you
Forever in me
Ever the same
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me

Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
Forever with you
Forever in me
Ever the same (Ever the same)