forging men


If we have any hope of survival into the generations that come,
a man’s body must be hardened through physical culture,
ironclad and reinforced through gruelling bellows,
he must commit to forging it.

Through the physical,
he taps into his mental and spiritual energies.

The body is the gateway for a man,
there is no other way into the portal of being,
except through these rigours.

Once admitted into the realm of himself,
he can make peace with his mind and soul,
his spirit can be calmed and nurtured.

It is incumbent on him to gain mastery over his mind,
which is in essence attached to his ego.
Knowledge if gained with arrogance is destructive,
and will deny him the fruits of completion.
Knowledge if not fortified with spiritual works,
will only lead to one’s detriment.

Spiritual works are the marks of sincerity and comprehension in a man.
They allow him to know their role,
know their place, know themselves,
and how they relate to the rest of humanity,
most importantly how they stand in front of God.

Spiritual works done with pride in the sense of self respect is admirable.
Spiritual works done with pride in the sense of arrogance or looking down on others is less fruitful than doing no spiritual works at all.

Humility and understanding that even though it is your choice to perform a work sincerely,
the source of your choice is still God given,
and had He willed, you would have chosen something else or nothing at all.

This brings the man to his knees and to the station of gratitude and contentment.

Ultimate gratitude is being grateful for being grateful perpetually,
as if spinning in the same concentric manner over and over,
a moth to a flame,
a dancer lost in the arms of her lover,
a man circumambulating around the holiest building,
Rumi spinning and lost in his love for Shams.

It continues to gather momentum and grow larger,
like gyrations out of our control.

That is what gratitude does to a man,
and to think it all started with forging yourself,
by being a blacksmith of your soul,
by dedicating your energies to the refinement of your body,
your mind,
your soul.

W.E.

The downfall of a sharp memory

If there’s a thing I don’t like about humans,
perhaps I could say it’s their memory.

I hate a memory that cracks like a whip,
the memory that has no empathy.

Even mercy resents it,
ever reluctant to caress their face.

There is no comforting glance,
not even a silken tongue can mend your ways,
if your memory whips and cracks,
ever a temper, ever ablaze.

Reluctant to let things go,
not a detail is left out of your recall,
they ache for your forgetfulness,
a hint of succour, release from your thrall.

There’s no pride in itemisation,
of every past thing said or unto you wrought,
how sage-like, how noble,
is the forgiver, who reduces memory to naught.

Wesam El dahabi

-how to seduce anyone from a distance

 

There’s sensuality in mystery,
a carnality of want,
a discipline of self restraint,
imagination and temptation make for good motivators,
muses juxtaposed to the anchor of dignity and honour,
and as lust drips,
from jugular,
from collar,
pelvis and finger tips,
I wonder if you can contain it all,
press those lips,
a seal,
a promise not to transgress,
and yet be such an inviting and alluring thing.

It’s violent,
utterly insolent,
to be so transparent,
and display all your ornaments,
to not leave a little signal,
unsent.
Resent,
yourself and don’t relent,
lament,
and with intent, repent.
Remain distant,
and guard your scent,
be unreachable,
touchable only through words,
insatiably absent.

-Wesam El dahabi

when you’re enough for yourself

I’ve tried my hand at amicability,
but I much prefer loneliness.

The dispute you have with yourself,
between wearing a mask for the sake of social harmony,
or keeping social harmony,
by removing yourself to loneliness.

I’ll take the later thanks.

Wesam El dahabi

backed into a corner

Having too much reservation will do that to you.
Having so much to say but being sensitive to others may hinder your ability to actually say it. There you are, mouth swollen with things you want to give birth to, and you abort, you self abort, just for the greater good.

But there is no feeling good about an abortion, a part of you is dying after all.
Perhaps the withholding has a positive outcome if you can channel it. All my stillborns manifest into a calmer expression. Perhaps the patience allows a bit of simmering, a bit of editing before I release something incoherent.

It’s a nice way to deceive yourself, that being quiet is worth it.

W.E.

things that weigh

 

Perhaps the biggest obstacle,
to being able to forgive,
is immunity to amnesia.

Now there’s something to envy,
if ever I wished an ill upon myself.

-Wesam El dahabi

Forced forgetfulness,
is it really the disease we think it is,
how wonderful to be able to let go,
like a giant eraser having its way with your mind,
finally,
able to be kind.

W.E.