“We’re the mirror of the cosmos, where stars collapse, born, and fade in unison.”

In poetry, I like to play my songs, In words is where my soul belongs.

I find hope in late summer afternoons.

I always wanted to feel it all. From the chaos of a thunderstorm to the touch of the wind. Both adrenaline and calm, fear and bravery.

There’s a soft-wild touch in love.

Go search for your soul; even if you don’t really know the route for being whole.

Maybe you’ve been through hell. But can you see how brave you were to get this far?

If you could choose to be anyone, would you still choose to be you?

Please, don’t listen to all the hate and take a little break to fall in love with you.

We have the entire universe within the soul. So dark and empty and yet, so full of light, so whole.

You’re like the sun; because nor the grey nor the storm can bring down the essence of your wildest form.

Storms can ruin gardens, but that doesn’t mean you won’t see flowers again.

The more you believe, the brighter you will shine.

She is like water lily, because in the most hostile waters she blooms.

My love, you know the colors of my soul.

When they try to break you down let the rain nourish your roots; let yourself flourish away.

Keep your mind open, your spirit wide and loose, the heart warm and kind.

I was raised orthodox Muslim. Very sheltered, very conservative.

More than a decade of continuous war and tough combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan gave birth to a new generation of leaders in the ranks of America’s fighting forces.

The real world has its limits; the imaginary world is infinite. Unable to enlarge the one, let us restrict the other, for it is from the difference between the two alone that are born all the pains which make us truly unhappy.

MAN is born free; and everywhere he is in chains. One thinks himself the master of others, and still remains a greater slave than they.

Men, though they must die, are not born in order to die but in order to begin.

Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chains. Those who think themselves the masters of others are indeed greater slaves than they.

My fashion is part of who I am, and though I was not born with these clothes on, I was born this way.

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.