Story of a Gravekeeper

​Snowflakes are falling on that grave. Snowflakes Melting over the heat that is still boiling hot under that still earth. That ground where nothing grows but dark roses. What was the cause of death?

Murder. Murder and torture were the reasons.
-Who lies in that grave, keeper? 

The keeper replied with a sigh and said: “It is a long story. In a couple of words, this story belongs to him who’s got no identity. He used to have one before, but he gave it away. He merged it with a different being you know?”

-No, I don’t understand. What was his identity then?

The keeper let another heavier sigh out

-He’s not dead … he’s just waiting. Paralyzed and taking a rest now. Let me tell you his story.

He was wandering in a mountain enjoying the snowfall. He was trying to keep up with the cold, but it was too cold.

– Is that why he’s here? That’s awful .

– No. Things changed after he saw that Glow in the distance. He went after it for over a year’s time, but every time he felt the heat, he turned back to the cold.

Until that one day, where the Glow gave him a direct sign. He played his favorite type of music… Jazz.

He went to it and it was a person. The best the creator could have ever created. His eyes as deep as an ocean of secrets, holding more than what an ocean could ever hide. All the shimmer covered the dust on his forehead. His lips as soft as a pearl were shaped to perfection. His face as clear as water that no mankind has ever had the privilege of touching. 

They held hands, and He felt safe. He felt that the journey of over a year was worth it at the end. 

They took on the journey. Until the glow started feeling aged. Aged but not old, just weighed down from the cold. The cold was getting to him somehow. 

He asked the Glow about what was weighing him down, but the glow smiled and took a step backwards, still smiling with his eyes.

He looked at the glow again and said: “But we are not holding hands anymore. What’s happening? Where’s your warmth gone? I can’t feel it”.

Time went by, and the warmth got colder and colder. 

– Is that an icicle forming on your chest? 

The Glow smiled in pain and said: “I’m sorry”

He, on the other hand, was attached. He couldn’t let the Glow go just like that. So He asked him for one last hug. 

How could you embrace a boiling being? With a growing ice cold dagger? He still did anyway.

The moment He pulled him closer, that dagger pierced His heart, and made its way to his soul. So deep that it was easier to break and leave it inside than actually trying to remove it. He was just locking his eyes onto the glows’ with all the pain tears forming. “It hurts,” He said “It is excruciating pain that I am feeling”. 

The Glow felt the urge to help, so he told him that he loves him, and along with that, he hugged him tighter. The tighter he hugged, the deeper the dagger drove into His chest until it finally broke. 

He stood there bleeding black because of the ice cold dagger, but still holding onto the Glow. The glow started glowing even hotter than before, his heat was getting irresistable and with that, the glow’s existence started fading away. He, did not know what to do. The only thing he has ever wanted was fading away, and even staying, it was still burning him miserably. In fact the glow was not disappearing, his soul was just shrinking and getter hotter and his being was walking away.

“It hurts. I’m in pain” He said, but still, never let go.

At the end, the glow’s soul turned into a burning piece of platinum, but He on the other hand, decided to go back to the snow, refusing to let go of the platinum. Always embraced it close to his pierced heart.

It injured him. It wounded him deeply, but he is still beating. He is still alive. He is shattered. He is living under this ground refusing to get out, refusing to be found. Still holding onto that burning platinum, hoping that who it belongs to will grow out of the ground and help salvage Him. He is hoping that the glow comes back looking for its lost soul, and put the pieces of Him back together and emrace Him again.

He… he is a heart. A broken heart. A broken heart that has been stabbed willingly. Hoping to be put back together again one day. These were his last words that you see on the grave: 
“For you, in your beauty,

Cast upon a tumultuous world

Deserve a calm lake to cool yourself,

But I am

A wild whimsical whirlpool,

To live as instinctual as

The water, I’d rage and swirl towards you,

In the selfishness of passion’s pill,

But how could i let you drown, 

Now that I’ve found you ….”
The Keeper paused for a second and said: 

This is where my heart is staying. I stay here and watch over it. Waiting for the roses to start coloring red one day. They have been black for quite a while. He has been bleeding black. But i have to ask .. How did you find this place? Who is that with you? Who are you? No one but the glow knows this place.

The stanger paused for a second, looked at his spouse, then said: 

Thank you for looking after my soul. I am sorry your heart has to suffer that because of me but i need you to know that i am always watching you from far away but up until the right time, all i can do is come and water the roses.

The keeper’s grave beat for a second and the keeper said: 

Are you ever coming back for what’s yours? 

The glow played the broken heart’s favorite music again and said .. dig out whats your… and fly. 

He looked at his spouse in pain, took her hand and walked away.
The keeper is still watching over his property hoping to have the glow back .. Hoping for Jazz music to play again.

Yes .. I have fallen in love, and yes, i have got my heart broken.

Is it time to leave now? Does the world just stop here? Do i still sit over the broken hearts grave and watch over it? I dont know .. but what i do know is that i would give away whatever i need to, to get him back.. Part of my soul has already left me when he left to be with someone else. I’m happy to give away the other half if i could get another hug in his arms or a kiss from his lips, but one day, when i leave, i will still watch over him from above… And that music, will forever play in my ears …. 

Until you come back for what was yours.


Perceptions, Assumption and Judgement (part 1)

Just a different type of writing touching on the philosophy of the three topics mentioned above.

​Perceptions change and assumptions vary on various topics concerning different aspects related to life in general as well as all that connects to it on the smaller matters. The question is, is there small matters and bigger ones? 

Well people’s judgments on a matter mostly depend on the different circumstances and conditions. Age is something that is judged-the one most considered by the majority of people (not including myself). I am not going into detailed examples already, but, for example, problems teenagers face would be family issues and whatnot. What we, as human beings, do not know how to do, is to respect the time and place where a “what so called problem” occurs. A part of an Arabic proverb says “…For every truth occurred in the right time and in its specified place …”

Judgement… It is a strong word that everyone is really good at nowadays. Along with judgement, comes human selfishness. Now… as we speak of selfishness, we would automatically shift our minds to the negative impact the word has on every person. Just like everything, selfishness DOES have a positive side to it as well as having another strong negative side, which if not controlled, could change the person to what society presumes selfishness is (the monster that everyone is told not to be). Now why do we judge selfishness to be the negative and bad monster that takes over a person’s attitude and makes them self-centred?  Makes them a person who does not think about or consider others emotional or physical needs? 

It is simply based on society’s assumptions. When we were born, we were taught everything the way our parents wanted us tolearn it. The way their society, culture and traditions taught them to be. The trick is, dealing with the ability of changing this fact as soon as we -in the phase of aging kids- are able to analyse and interpret all sorts of issues we go through. 

When we go through this phase of questioning our surroundings and giving ourselves the choice of either accepting and/or letting go of what we had been taught, things head towards a change. Yes it does sound a bit awkward saying and/or letting go but it is, with no doubt, achievable. 

As an opinionated fact, nothing starts from zero, except the birth of a physical body which in fact is the birth of all other opinions and beliefs of this physical body, as well as its psychology. Zero is the phase of being born into this world and whatever comes after that is a process of learning, so in order to create and ensure what you believe in, within a certain topic, you would have to have a base of knowledge around the matter to be believed in in the first place. Therefore, basing your decisions on acquired knowledge, means embracing this type of knowledge, and letting go of what does not get along with your beliefs while making a decision, is in fact letting go. 

Icicles and Flames

At some stages you encounter circumstances where you get a lot of mixed emotions and struggle with choice between them. Here is my demonstration …

​In the fire dancing with the flames … and in the water drifting with the waves. 
Up and down they go, and from one side to another they crash .. Is it a tornado we’re trapped in dear soul? Or is it a dance move gone out of control?

But its colder than water and it burns worst than fire. Is that a frostbite i can see right there or a piece of platinum reforming with the heat and glare?

With every move of every flame that body moves .. Was it a dance move within the harmony of exaggerated beats, or an expression of pain within the burning scent of living breathe, under the reign of a living beast? Emerging from under the glass-like water surface, not quite sure if it’s an expression of talent swimming, or a surviving move trying to tear that surface apart to break free…

Withered leaves and broken branches .. Ashes and icicles roam the space. The roaring of thunder is heard in the distance and the blabbering under the water yelling out with what sounded like suffocation from within speaks up. The crackling of wood that’s burning platinum replies to the scenery which from suffering has encountered enough. 

Together .. They create a harmonic tune .. a beat to dance for, a beat to drown in. The same beat to set up a fire, and throw the figures around through dimensions .. 

Together they paint a sweet image with a sour taste. Sparkling like a star in a moonless night and singing like a suprano, highest level opera singer, with no clear view of the path ahead. Singing .. Hitting the highest note with every flame that moves again, and the lowest with every gasp of air taken from under those waters.

Is it fire? Is it water? Is it a tornado? Or is it a perfect combination of all?

She’s Gone 

“She’s gone” was written in the memory of my grandmother who passed away on the 26th of January 2012. I wrote this short piece after walking into her house that week.

The bricks are crying .. The blocks are weeping .. the doors are shut with silence roaming the place .. The corridor calls out her name choking but no one answers.. The windows dress up in black curtains and refuse to let anymore light through .. No need for light where sorrow exists .. In a place that has lost it’s heart beat .. In a house that has lost his mother and meaning .. 

She’s gone .. 

Soul Of A Lost Child

“Soul Of A Lost Child” is a piece which i wrote on the aeroplane travelling from Melbourne to Cairns Queensland. It was a small reflection on my personal life story.

Once upon a dream it was. It was a young boy who from life wanted nothing but peace, wanted nothing but serenity. It was a bird that early left its mother’s nest, unwillingly willing to fly. Fly through a storm before it’s actually learnt how to fly. At an early age life has taken him through unplanned journeys, suffering unexpected agony and enjoying all unexpected joys, even loving every bit of unplanned pain. 
It is a rough path you go through to get to where you are. They say it doesn’t matter where you are or what you have achieved, for what matters is your journey. Is that actually right? 

It seems at some stages that your journey is endless. That moment that you think you’ve reached the stage where people say “it’s the journey that counts”, is the moment you realise that that is only a part of another journey that is yet to come, or actually is in progress right there and then. So, is there really an end to a start? Where is the start? In other words, is there really a desired end to an unpredictable start? 

Like a golden fish swimming in the endless waters. Like a hummingbird flying across the unbounded skies, does the boy grow up and flee into the world. “Father, what is that?” No answer, but a rhythm is heard. “Father, do i do that?” Again, a heartbeat is heard, but no answer still. “Mother, what about the wolves in the forest”, “Just stay at home child”, “But mother, i need to fly in order to not get stiff”,”Go then son, I’ll pray for you”. 

Throughout the journey of life it is not always ups that you are going to encounter. You will have an equivalent amount of falls. Like an alternating sinusoidal wave, after every rise comes a fall. A Japanese proverb says “Fall down seven times, stand up eight”. Throughout your journey new circumstances occure which get you feeling helpless. You put yourself in mediums where giving up is the only easy option. Where it’s the easiest way out. Most of the times these mediums force themselves upon you, and you, more than willingly, let them take you in their very tight and overpowering arms. Nice and warm they are. Warm and tight they feel. Secure. Are they secure? Or is it only a comfort zone that you’re just creating for yourself? 

Strangers in the night we meet. Strangers we decide to add to our journey. Are they strangers? Or is it an assumption we make based on perceptions and judgements? It is as simple as an identification we refer to with a word. The moment we change the word the perception changes. 

Under the rain we walk, and strangers in the night we are. Everyone is heading to a destination, where some will rest once and forever, where other will wander again and alone. A stranger approaches. “Hold my hand son, and let’s do this together,” the dark shadow in the depth of the night says. “But where are we going?” I ask. “Somwhere where we’re not shadows. Somewhere we’ve got a face. Somewhere we’ve got a story” they said. “But you are in a story”, I said. The dark shadow looks at me with a sightless face, and whispers with their mute lips “Son, what is a story without charachters, what is your story without you? Somewhere out there, there is something we call light. Go find it. It’s the way you will find the meaning to your being, and the meaning to your doings. It is where you will see more than dark strangers to your lightless night, somewhere where my face is an actual face. Somewhere I have a reason. Somewhere I’ve got identity. Find your goal. Find your aim. See it in the light and head towards it”. I sit there wondering to myself “What is my goal? Why am i persistent on finding my way out? Am i persistent?”

Under the rain we stay until that reason is born, if it ever was. Sometimes we wonder, in alleys we linger. Looking for that face, looking for that light, in velvet black, through a lonely night. That moment comes where you don’t feel scared. That moment when the night becomes your favorite place, where shadows become your absolute best mates. What has changed? 

The stranger approaches again, and with his mute lips he mutters again. “Son, we are one now. I guided you out of here, but my company was too good to let go of wasn’t it?”

Blended with the night you become, and a part of its story you decide to be. 

It is all a matter of choice and decision. You are the one person who could and would stop you from going on further. The only person who can stop you from finding what it is you are looking for. It is very easy to fall into a well, but it is a difficult task finding the way out. You can very easily become a part of your own darkness, and forget that you have got a face. You have got a purpose, but it takes a will, a really strong will, to go forward and find that purpose. It is the journey that matters . The number one hundred is a whole and its big, but it consists of one hundred ones. And every number one consists of smaller numbers. It is the journey that matters. Its all about the tiny steps you take. At a specific time and a specific place you have a specific story, which is created by a purpose. A purpose you might have lost. 

Just like a puzzle piece, loose it and it’ll always remind you of it’s unfilled space, find it and that story would perfectly fit in in painting your bigger picture.

Raafat Sleem

A Painting In Vision

We meet people every day and we connect to others .. “A Painting In Vision” is a reflection on two souls living apart. I hope you like it, and feedback would be most appreciated.

“Born from the ashes of a burning star we are. Two colliding galaxies that have once found harmony through the serenity of space, the adventure of distance and the purity of time … strangers, but familiar. Different, but rather similar. Antagonistic, yet compatible.
In the velvet darkness of the night, a walk along a river you take. In the water you step, and in the river you walk. But it is wrong isn’t it? Why walk in the water when you have a safe shore for you to use? I guess some adventures are unique and different, and in order for them to stand out, you should approach them uniquely and in a different way that you’ve approached your other journeys.
Smoothly moving along with the gentle stream, you aim to make your way towards the unknown.

The unknown at that stage starts trying to identify itself. To start with, it comes to you as a feeling. You see it like an artist’s paiting set up for an auction, but still, far from reach. The higher the bet, the higher the risk.

Its a very real feeling. A feeling painted in a vision, illustrated by every single beam of silver moonlight, splashing on the canvas every sprinkle of water that paints out each step you take in a memorable journey. Every part of your body that hits that water takes part in the painting, telling a different and unique part of the story in its own way delivering its own image.”

To be continued …


Chapter 1 of chapter X — thinkbroadorg — thinkbroadorg

This is where it all starts. At this stage X of my life i have decided to start this blog in order to deliver a message through a word to the public and whoever might be interested in taking it. Today is Chapter 1 of this new journey that i have decided to endure.

Many thanks go to friends who I’ve met along this journey and if it wasnt for them i wouldnt be taking a first step in this. I’m pretty sure they know who they are. Destiny it is that you meet such people along the way.

Looking forward to more interaction on the blog and definitely more posts as well as different points of view and feedback (including negative and positive)

via Chapter 1 of chapter X — thinkbroadorg — thinkbroadorg