Within each breast a private kingdom stirs,
Where longing shapes its own uncharted law,
Where will asserts what no edict defers,
And selfhood stands on what the heart first saw.
Yet round us press the claims of kin and race,
The weight of custom and the voice of need,
The roles we’re asked to fill, the given space,
The common ground that asks our common seed.
Between these poles we live our numbered days,
Now servant, now the sovereign of our will,
Now lost in others’ roads, now our own ways,
Now bending to the world, now standing still.
This war within is life’s most sacred art —
The self made whole by what would break the heart.
#923 On Moral Reflection
Words meant to wound fly
back to the one they named — God
holds the mirror still.
To name another’s
fault is easy; harder still
to live what we preach.
The page holds the self
honest where the tongue would flee —
write, and then repent.
#920 On The Duplicitous Dealer
They come with smiles rehearsed, their offers set,
A table dressed in false civility,
Who reads the room and corners you — and yet
They call it choice, this forced humility.
The terms arrive like verdicts, cold and sealed,
No room to breathe, no margin left to turn,
The hand extended only to be steeled —
Comply or watch the bridges start to burn.
How clean their conscience sleeps, how well they feed
On spoils dressed up as generosity,
Who profits most from someone else’s need
And calls the whole transaction victory.
But justice has a long and patient gait —
God help them when it finally finds their gate.
#918 Tentang Paras Insan Yang Hampir Tiada Terkenal
Pulangkan aku ke hari-hari dulu
Zaman muda yang makin kabur dalam ingatan
Ketika mata dan jiwaku masih lagi hijau dan gebu
Masih berbinar dengan cahaya pengharapan
Derai kenangan ini masih terlalu berbisa
Masih terlalu sarat dengan kesah dan tangisan
Betapa raut jiwa ini masih bergelut dengan duka
Luka dari seribu lacutan hangat kekecewaan
Nah, inilah khazanah yang aku wariskan
Buat usia tua yang kini tiba menyapa
Dan aku hampir gagal mengenal paras insan
Yang kini terpapar di cermin — kau siapa?
Benarlah, kita takkan mampu lari
Dari kenangan lalu yang penuh berduri.
#917 On The Line
Vessel cracks at last —
what floods out is not weakness
but the self, reclaimed.
I will bear no more
than dignity permits me.
The line has been drawn.
Beyond their reach now,
I walk the quiet distance
that was always mine.
#913 Tentang Insan Teralpa
Bangga amat pada lencana
Harta jadi ukuran darjat
Tayang bini tayang segala
Tinggi langit tiada teringat
Bila takbur marak memerak
Salak desak makin menggila
Tewas pada nafsu kehendak —
Itu tanda insan teralpa.
#912 On The Road Chosen
The road I chose — where
did it quietly become
someone else’s life?
#910 On A Day Well Lived
Steps counted, dinner
cooked — the body kept its vows,
the evening held still.
What seemed a cliff-face
dissolves into gentle slope,
mist lifts without wind.
Alhamdulillah —
not thunder, just a soft breath,
enough. More than enough.
#909 Tentang Pengadilan Di Penghujung Alam
Resmi alam bersulam duka
Payah getir menguji diri
Tiap pahit ada manisnya
Harus sabar mengharung hari
Usah dinda bermuram sedih
Jangan pula berputus asa
Tuhan Agung Maha Pengasih
Pasti tiba Pengadilan-Nya.
#908 On The Morning Walk
To step outside before the world grows loud,
When air is clean and light is soft and new,
To walk beneath the white of drifting cloud,
And lift the eyes to unencumbered blue —
The neighbour nods, the stranger tips a smile,
Brief graces passed like coins along the street,
And something loosens, mile by easy mile,
The knot that sleep had failed to quite defeat.
The trees stand green and tall in morning light,
Indifferent to our burdens, blessedly so,
They ask for nothing, offer back the sight
Of something rooted, patient, set to grow.
So let the soul be walked back into bloom —
The morning sky, its ever-open room.