148 ~ The ink of metaphorical blood ~

“How do you think out the words …?”

Is an extract from a message I recieved from an esteemed father-like-uncle 11 weeks ago.


They’re inscribed with:

~ The ink of metaphorical blood ~

Words have a gigantic power to uplift and revive the life force within people. In view of the fact that, when the ink flows from the gashes of our souls, it transmits various forms of currents, as it exits our veins and formulates words onto the pages of a book.

In a bewildering place one unlit night

With not a human around me in sight

The moon was no where to be seen

No trace of its magnificent beam

Not a shadow

Of its glow

No hand to hold as a guide

Or a presence alongside

Where do I turn?

What can I learn?

I tilted my gaze up to the sky and perceived His reassuring presence. It encircled me within and removed the hollowness.

Realization slowly dawned; this daunting episode was a means of calling me to an uninterrupted communion. I should appreciate and take advantage of these moments. Just like how a person cherishes a call or time spent in the presence of their beloved๐Ÿ‘‡


Once I recovered from any hazardous episode, I could always reach out to someone, or they would reach out to me if I withdrew for a period.

But… ๐Ÿ’ญ Had that one been fatal as it almost was.. ๐Ÿ’ญ Though, not destined to be.. ๐Ÿ’ญ

What awaited me on the other side? What would the experience be like? Who would offer me companionship?

Were the thoughts which engulfed me following the aftermath of a “recovery process“.

None other than a friend who’s loyalty surpasses this transitory abode. I needed to absorb myself in more gratitude for being blessed with an all time companion. Regardless of the minute! Day or night. Never, has it failed me! Never, will it fail. And as long as we are devoted, it will not forsake us in the afterlife.

“A lifeline – that transcends beyond this life.”


๐Ÿ‘†Besides the M.C & myself who choked with a milange of emotion, I didn’t expect a similar reaction from people who heard and read the poem in the above chapter on the graduation day or after..

People commended. I humbly appreciated.

A handful were those who swam through the words to gain an in depth understanding of it’s origin.

All the nights, seemingly dark

Became an inspirited hallmark

The most distressed and lonesome moments

Evolved into the greatest source of enlightenment

Now can you tell?

Does all poetry

Come so easily?

I am honestly not here to challenge or compete

Perhaps I even sound like a broken tape repeat ๐Ÿ˜‚

I do not use these platforms to enthrall a large audience

With an essay of fancy words to recieve compliments

Although Copyright is necessary! Credit has to be given for the endless hours of effort and pain involved.

In a figurative implication, I do not consider the words “mine”

Because only the Almighty places them somehow in my mind

And His benevolence arranges them in a style to fit and rhyme

I am humbled to be a medium of sharing some good.

If you haven’t noticed already, most of


A time when the days tasks are fulfilled

And overall movement has now stilled

A time when most humans are asleep

And we hear the little creatures creep

A time I’m able to hold a converse

With everything else in the universe.

I write during other intervals as well. Moreso, if a particular thought flashes at a random moment. I believe it’s for a purpose, so then I note it down as soon as possible. Or if something of relevant importance is weighing down on my heart.

However, no time compares to early morning and the hush of a night.

You might have already gauged I am a passionate selenophile..

When the moon is out to enamour us with its sway

Or the stars are dazzling on a decorative display

The night sky in its artistic splendor, beckons me in an irresistible way…

One evening, as the moonlight cast its luminance onto the floor through tiny gaps of the blinds.. I peered out and thereafter found myself gazing down at the soil in a reflective state of wonderment regarding the stages of mans existence on earth and beyond..

The quote below was then elicited ๐Ÿ‘‡

This is the essence of our existence.

One principal:

Remain original.

You do not have to be a writer. You do not have to be a public speaker. You do not have to be a world traveler. You do not have to be a painter. You do not have to be such and such, according to some of society’s peculiar standards.

Be yourself.

Become a benefactor in whichever manner is applicable to your circumstances. Accompanied by sincerity of course.

Perform an act of charity. It doesn’t have to be in large amounts of monetary value. A glass of water. A piece of a date. A smile. A few good words. A hand spared. An ear lended. Or the mighty task of being a model of morale to your kids, who will in turn continue the lessons imparted to them.

These are few examples of countless forms by means of which, we can leave behind a legacy that will live on after we have departed.

“Don’t shine so others can see you. Shine, so others can see him through you.” – Author (cannot recall)

Perform good solely for the Almighty’s pleasure

And you will be rewarded from his treasure

– Ml Yunus Patel (May abundance of mercy be upon him)

How beautiful isn’t it? To have built a life wherefrom people continue benefiting decades after you have gone..

Scholars & contributors in every field. People from whom we are obtaining benefit, centuries after they’ve passed on. Individuals who were driven and selfless in the pursuit of their ambitions. Individuals of honor who sacrificed their lives in order to secure for us a better future..

Whatever is sowed and cultivated will most certainly be reaped.

An incredible message from Claire Wineland once again:

Life on earth is but a short stay

Be an asset that won’t fade away.

A soul, where after the inescapable

Its character lingers, unforgettable.

(Here are some additional writing habits / pros and cons:

I do not reply to messages in the midst of writing because it breaks my chain of reverie.

I cannot write when there’s too much noise or lots of people are around me.

In order for the ink to flow easily, I need to bury my entire being into the topic of discussion.

Posts are easy to read but take many hours (sometimes days) to structure the way I desire it to be.

Brain fog & dizziness slows the process of compilation and publication.

This post itself for example, took approximately 10 hours – broken by intervals, to form a solid shape.

Some of the compositions are attached and gathered from a combination of separate drafts into one. They’re not all written at the time of one post.

A lot of thought goes into which part joins where.

One of the hardest ones I’ve had to do since a long time, was chapter 145

I always tend to find errors afterwards and have to rectify them)

3 thoughts on “148 ~ The ink of metaphorical blood ~

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