Fiery Curveballs

Fiery Curveballs

When Life Throws a Fiery Curveball at you,

do you burn with sadness and fear?

Pain—

When you burn inside,

Refusing to turn to ash,

Keeping away the Smoke,

From the Roses in Your Sacred Garden.

When Life Throws a Fiery Curveball at you,

do you tremble and wish to disappear?

Courage—

Moving through the heat with calmness,

In a persistent pace,

Never standing still,

For it could melt the walls of your Sacred Garden.

When Life Throws a Fiery Curveball at you,

do you cry and dissolve in grief?

Love—

Not a single tear is shed from your eyes,

For in your Sacred Garden,

Even a single drop sparkles with light,

And is seen as bright as the Sun.

When Life Throws a Fiery Curveball at you,

do you frown and fight the stream?

Joy—

Revering the presence of the Fountain,

Meditating upon its peaceful sound,

Allowing the gentle flow to steer your life,

For no matter how many fires are thrown,

There will never be a tomb in your Sacred Garden.



--
By
Al-Gassim Sharaf Addin,
July 06, 2026

Tiny's Mind

Tiny's Mind

There comes a time when words are not to be spoken nor written and even symbols could be a discretion...

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Poor Tiny, truth got him to stall,
In a bubble or a mall,
Tiny, Tiny, here you are -
Broken mirror on the wall;

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Tiny shall only crawl,
Tiny is tiny and small,
Tiny's spoke words before the fall -
Broken mirror on the wall;

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Mighty Tiny whispers for all,
What Tiny thinks afterall -
Broken mirror on the wall,

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Reflecting pieces of Tiny's mind,
Holding dear gestures of Tiny's face,
Tiny has a feast for all -
Broken mirror on the wall;

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Tiny has a tale to share,
Nighteen Nighteen Eighty Four,
Please remember to close the door -
Broken mirror on the wall;

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Tiny asks, Tiny writes, Tiny listens to y'all,
Tiny knows Tiny will be always be Tiny,
So Tiny laughs, cries, and adores -
Broken Mirror on the wall;

It's nothing!

It hurts more than ever

No mater how strong the pain,

it just keeps hurting more and more

and even when it repeats itself,

again and again,

it hurts!

Pain!

There's no dying, not realistically,

but falling, grieving, and the aches of one's essence covered by unheeded truths

To keep on dying... To keep on trying...

and maybe breathing...

No matter how hurtful and how painful!

Pain! Hurt! But does it mater?

It hurts more than ever,

pain, hurt, and dying?

-

No!

Truth has been spoken.

When the soul speaks the truth,

in a vacuum, approached by death,

without a meaning,

only hurt,

hurt,

and hurt.

When it's separation,

the soul evaporating,

for what it carries,

is love and truth,

but why? Tell me why,

Y O U

&

I

were and weren't,

are and aren't?! 

 

Hast mine own soul did fail us?

In my breathing tomb, I embrace you, honor you, and see you

for I'm nothing more but acceptance that honors you

believes in you

and a child adoring you.

Hast mine own soul did fail us?

For how closer could I get to your truth? And how far deep shall I shed my existence?

My Love!

Hast mine own soul did fail us?

I'm gone, nothing, merely more than an illusion, if for you to see.
But...

Hast mine own soul did fail us?

Spoken truths that the soul carries,

and some unspoken but crushed to pieces of silence -

embraced,

surrendered,

and questioned.

That which the soul carries,

spoken,

for the value of being truthful,

and endless faith in love,

but what does it mean to keep on dying?

To believe and accept the hurt

Dying, every moment of a silent and permanent death

A 

concealed death

A

voiceless suffering

A

hurting soul

A

repeating experience

Again,

and Again!