Anti-Allah Poem

We have knelt before you as children, believing in your might
Believing that your power, will cleanse our sight
But when time brings us age, we finally begin to see
That your promise brought us, far from reality

We have prayed for your deliverance, only to realize
That you've strayed us from reason, and from real eyes
Brainwashed we've become, by the words of Muhammed the mad
Only in the burning of sadistic mosques, will we be glad

We read your holy Koran, asserting that every word was true
Even when it reveals hellish verses, we believed it was true
Even when it frightens our souls, with the grotesque descriptions of hell
Into the greatest lie in history, we so blindly fell

Atheistic population, is surely on the rise
To bring justice to those religiously killed with cries
The delusion of Muhammed, has begotten generations of ignorance
While we lay down on the floor, believing in witchcraft and devils

The Fall of Islam

I am an ex-Muslim, who used to pray to god, believing in his grace
I'd bow down earnestly and fully, as tears drop down my face
I'd surrender completely, not realizing I was giving away my identity
And I spent most of my life, drifting away from reality

I see a day, when the sheikhs of Islam will be hung ferociously from maddened followers,
Followers that have realized that they were sucked into the greatest lie in history,
A lie that was built from the psychological hallucinations that Muhammed conjured up at Mount Hera,
Mount Hera, the place where the beginning of countless deaths caused by any sign of criticism

There is clear evidence that Muhammed was a megalomaniac, one who adored himself, calling himself a prophet to be worshipped during the Salat prayer, and called upon during the Athan. All Muhammed really wanted was global attention to feed is egotistic nature which devours and kills anyone who dares to cross his will.

Muhammed probably covered his narcissistic nature by masking himself with the very dualistic cloak of good morals, while deep within he wanted nothing more than an absolute totalitarian agenda under the wing of the god he created at Mount Hera, Allah.

Discussion on the darkness of the Koran

Am I the only Muslim who has actually taken time to read the Koran?

Am I the only Muslim who sees the violence and darkness in its message?

Am I the only Muslim who sees the repetition of hellish verses?

Am I the only Muslim who sees the true violent nature of Islam?

Am I the only Muslim who sees how knowledge can destroy Islam?

Am I the only one who sees how the Koran restricts minds and darkens souls?

 

Can Islam survive much longer?

It seems that the world is advancing quickly by the day. The internet is allowing us to take information from all across the web, and all across the world.

The thing is with Islam and the Koran. The more knowledge you gain, the less of a muslim you become. The more philosophical knowledge you obtain, the less of a religious fanatic you become. It's true. I am an Ex-Muslim. It pains me to say it, but it's true.

An Ex-Muslim once said that Islam will collapse in ten years. I don't find that hard to believe. It is filled with violence. The Koran warns of hell far more than it tells us to love one another. It tells us to love God, and to not fear death, for death and martyrdom will be good in his name.

Another Ex-Muslim said that the greatest scourge to Islam is knowledge, and the greatest aid and supporter of Islam is ignorance.

I don't believe Islam can survive much longer. It's heartbreaking to know that. In an advancing world, religion cannot survive. With so much technology, dogmas of religion can no longer flourish.

Message from the Antichrist

Ch.1

  Day one, Oblivion. They’re holding me down. All I can see are the fading sparks of hope fading across the dim room. The skeikh is desperately trying to hold me down to the floor. I’m going insane. He reads verses of the Koran upon my head. I lose it even more. The verses are echoing from his tongue like soothing shivers. It’s filling the room with this aura of hope, and this false sense of redemption.

  I start to shout and shout. Nothing makes sense. My parents are worried sick. They think the devil has gotten the worst of me. They think Diabolis has gotten his prize. They think Lucifer is laughing up from hell. I’m caught in the middle. I’m trying to shake myself free. Their hands are gripped tight, hurting my arms. They think I’ve lost it. I think I have.

  All I want is to be understood. They’re reading the verse that talks about how Harut and Marut were angels sent down to earth, teaching people the sorcery of black magic. It’s in the Koran. They think I’m possessed. The sheikh begins to raise his voice. They think that I’ve been taken down the seven dungeons of hell, and that I’m the devil incarnate.

  My eyes are burning red. They’re burning red with innocence. I don’t understand what is going on. My mom whispers to me that the devil is taking control, do not listen to him. She tells me that he is the one causing the blasphemous thoughts. I get more anxious. I don’t understand how far down the well I’ve gone. I don’t understand what this world has gotten me to.

  The verses of the Koran are whispering in my ears, making me more agitated. My face turns red. I’m lost in complete darkness. I’m lost in cables that seem to hold me from all angles. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The sheikh begins to bring water to splash over my face. I’m lost in this blighted dream, this fading reality.

  My legs begin to shake. My hands begin to tremble. My life is going to chaos. The lights from outside the room were sparkling dim lighted, like a delusory sense of hope that someone can save me from this. I was caught on the floor, hitting bottom, second by second. My mom begins to cry, she is mourning my sanity. I’m caught in this web of infinite sorrow.

  The humming of the Koranic verses ring in my ears, I don’t know why. They give me hope. Maybe it is hope that is destroying me. Maybe it is hope that is a delusion. I don’t want it. I’m shouting, trying to ignore it. I don’t want to cling on to a rope that I slip off of every other day. My dad is walking around the dim lighted room, anxious. I try to resist what is imposed, but I am caught in a whirlpool of cycles that never seem to have an end. I’m caught in this never-ending circle of keeping inside what has to be shared.

  God will save you, god will save you, is what the sheikh is telling me. I am praying, while near dead on the floor. I am praying, and begging for a sign. I am pleading, hoping for redemption. I look at the ceiling of the room, as though it were the sky, and ask for deliverance. I beg. I plead. I pray. I cry. I wait. I wait. I ask for a respite from this. I ask for a chance at life. I wait. I wait.

  I have hope, it was filling me to the lungs. It felt like an outside poison. It felt like an engrained disease. It has me chasing mirages that go on until the end of time. I figure out that my prayers don’t fall on non-answering ears, but on nonexistent ones.

Ch.2

  Day two. I’m still caught in the room of the sheikh. I’ve lost my mind. They’ve got the Koran on the cassette player. They think it’s going to calm me down. I’m struggling on the floor. I’ve lost my sanity. The humming of the Koranic verses whisper so calmly in my ear. They give this sense of relaxation. But this relaxation, is too hard to understand. It is one filled with hope. And hope is something that is driving me insane. I’m too caught up in a fantasy.

  I’m listening to the sheikh talking outside, telling people to stay away from this room. I’m in a state of comatose madness. The blood is filling my veins. The madness is spiking in my mind. The chaos is flowing in my heart. I’m looking at the ceiling, as though it were the sky, and ask myself what God has done to me. I ask him where I have gone wrong to deserve this. I was always a faithful servant. I always prayed. What has gotten me to this place? What sin have I committed to deserve this treachery?

  I’m moping on the floor, my head heavier than my legs. I’m caught between reality and the distant dream of a false utopia. I’m caught between what seems to be hope, and ghost at the end. My heart is dying. My soul is being flushed out. I was always a good servant. I was always keen to have faith. What have I done God?

  I reach for the cassette player, trying to shut it off. I don’t want it. It’s hurtful. I don’t know why. I don’t want hope anymore. I want to be free of hope. It is hope that has driven me insane. I don’t want the hope that exists in the lines between the verses of the Koran. I want reality. I want to see what’s real for what it really is. I turn it off.

  I lay on the floor, again looking at the ceiling, as though it were the sky. I wonder what on Earth is going on. I wonder if I’m possessed, or that some evil demon is taking control of me. But something is telling me otherwise. I feel it, so deep in my veins, so far in my consciousness. I know it’s not a demon, yet everyone around me is telling me that. I know it can’t be. I feel it. I sense it. I want the truth.

Ch.3

  Day three. I sit down, and I have a talk with the sheikh. “God is testing you, Altair.” He’s testing you to see if you can be patient with your demons.” He says. I’m agitated. I get frustrated. I feel something boiling inside me. I don’t know what it is. “What do you mean, demons? Why me? Why demons? What if it is something else?” The sheikh puts his hand on his forehead, sighing. “Altair, what do you mean something else? It can’t be anything else.” I get up. I walk back and forth throughout the room. I’m lost in a haze of what people are telling me. I’m lost in a blight of what people are imposing upon me. They make you believe where you don’t want to believe. They make you have faith in something you inherently don’t want to have faith in. They change who you are.

  Day by day, I’m having more and more trouble dealing with the fact that it could be a demon. I just can’t buy into it anymore. If hope doesn’t exist, then God doesn’t exist. And if God can’t exist, then how can demons exist? I persist in my pursuit for the truth. I want freedom. I want deliverance. I want a chance at life. I want the truth.

  Day by day, I’m drowning further into this theocracy, this web of theology. I’m diving deeper into the man made laws of religion, and what it has to say upon the masses. Day by day, I am becoming someone I’m not. It’s telling me that I am possessed. I simply can’t believe in that fact. Something inside is driving me to find the truth. I go on, in the hopes I could find an answer to all of this.

Ch.4

  Day four, I’m lying face down in the room. I begin to reminisce upon how all of my life has gone to dust. I begin to think about how all of my life has gone to ruins. I think deeply about my state, and about what’s around me.

  I begin to wonder what these voices are in my head. I begin to wonder what they are beckoning. I begin to wonder what they are calling for. It’s too hazy. It’s too incomprehensible. I can’t understand it.

  It’s morning, and the sheikh comes barging into the room. He gets his belongings, and then leaves quickly. I hear screaming outside the room. I hear wild tongues chanting in the name of God. I get curious. I slowly open the door of the sheikh’s room, and step by step go outside. I wonder where the sheikh left. I look to the right, and I see a bunch of people gathered around the mosque of the neighborhood. I move closer, I want to know what’s going on.

  I hear repentance and heartbreaking remembrance slogans coming from the people gathered over there. I move closer, and see it. The mosque has been invaded. On its walls are messages written in blood. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. My heart skipped a beat. My eyes opened wide. On a mosque? I asked myself. Who would do such a thing?

  I read the messages. ‘The God delusion – Richard Dawkins” I read from one of the signs. “Religion is mind control – George Carlin.” “Open your eyes and see, wake up from this theology.” “You’re far too caught down, in this religion of mind, further and further delusion, you shall find.”

  It became a crime scene. The cops arrive and want to know what’s going on. It’s probably the first time it ever happened. Everyone was shocked. Everyone was afraid. Has the antichrist come? Has doom and legion come upon the people? Has the end of the world arrived? Is the end at hand? Are we all doomed? I could feel those question emanating from the people around me. I am equally scared. I am terrified. I am frightened.

Ch.5

  Day five, I’m sitting in the room, shaking back and forth. I’m supposed to get better, or at least that’s what they keep telling me. I’m possessed. I’ve got the blood of the devil running through my veins. I’ve got the wrath of Iblis swarming in my blood. My face reddens, and my teeth begin to grind. I leave the room for a cigarette.

  I feel the decay of the breathing of the cigarette as a relief, as if death is approaching inch by inch. I feel the death of the cigarette saluting me, second by second. I embrace the death associated with the cigarette. I thrive on it. I die by it.

  I walk back and forth in front of the room. My parents won’t let me leave the room to go back home. They think I will lose my mind if the Koran is not constantly read upon me. They think that I will go insane if the words of God are not delivered into my ears.

  I sneak to the nearby mosque, to see the messages again. Has the antichrist come to save us from the shackling boundaries of religion? Has the antichrist come to deliver us from an age of dogmatic religion? Has he come to bring back the days of chaos and destruction? I don’t know. All I know, is that something is going on.

  I see the messages. “Why did Abu Talib not embrace Islam, even to his last breath?” When I saw that message, all wrapped up in blood writing, my eyes opened wide with a realization. Why didn’t Abu Talib embrace Islam? That question. He was the uncle of the prophet, and knew him since he was a child. Why didn’t he embrace Islam? Why? Why?

  Such an interesting question it is. Was it because Abu Talib knew the prophet since he was a child, and knew him for who he really was? Was it because he saw that the prophet was delusional, and that his message all came from a fervent imagination? Was it because he knew that the prophet had a schizophrenic personality, and that one side of him thirsted for blood, while the other fought in God’s name? All of these questions came up, and I begin to wonder, the magnitude of the power of this question.

  Was it because the prophet was a madman who hid his true colors? Was it because the prophet was a gifted and talented poet, having the ability to brainwash millions of people into the delusion of God? Can his message still survive today, in a society filled with science? Can his message still survive today, when the delusion of hope seems not to hold on very strongly?

  These questions drove me insane. I begin to bang my head on the wall outside the room. How far has the world sunk into this theocracy? How far has the generations taken us through this theology? How far have we dove into the man made laws of religion? How far?

  Blood begins to drip down my forehead. Bleed it all out, I say. Is this religion that constitutes over a billion people simply a cult in which all adapts to the behaviours of the prophet? Is it all a cult that survived and flourished in the days of the prophet, but can no longer survive nowadays?

  I look at the skies, and I see it. I see the destruction of the religion coming. Maybe not now, maybe not soon. But it shall arrive. I see it so clearly. It cannot survive. The more we learn, the more it fades. The more we encounter, the more it fades from our minds. The more knowledge we obtain, the more it goes into the background.   

Ch.6

  Day six, I'm outside the sheikh's room. I'm walking throughout the streets wandering. The nearby mosque is on fire. It's burning to ashes. I continue walking, and I see nearby firemen trying to put out the fire. I see the fire, and I'm amazed.

  Here I see it, the mosque on fire. For some reason, I feel this burning in my heart. As if it is being put to life. Anarchy. Destruction. I'm thriving on it. The world can no longer survive. The antichrist has come to put our blind eyes to rest. The antichrist has come to put our dormant minds to eternal sleep. The time has come.

  What will we do, when there's nothing left to cling to? What will we do, when our broken idols, come crashing down? What will we do, when there's nothing left to take refuge in. The end is coming. For some reason, my heart is once again dancing with the spirit of life. It is flowing around with the anarchy in the air, and the destruction that is coming forth. I am pleased. My eyes redden, as doom starts to approach. My soul blossoms, as the end comes to being.

Ch.7

 

 

The world is in a tragedy

Ch.1

  The world is in a tragedy. It is in a mess. People go against religion, people blindly attach themselves to it. What religion needs, I believe, is clarification, that’s all. People ought to understand what being religious really means. That’s what they should focus on.

The definition of God, to me, is: the manifestation of life

The definition of Sufi, to me, is: to love God, until one’s spirit dissolves with God, the manifestation of life. Is similar to Brach Spinoza’s pantheism.

  People always think it is dogma, and the rules set by the Koran, that define Islam. Why is that so? Since when was the simple truth of believing in God not enough? Why do we continue to fear God, instead  of love him. Why do we take the Koran to be the irrevocable truth? Why do we continue to fear the hellish verses it keeps mentioning? Why not simply believe in God, and stop at that?

  Why do we continue to pray to Muhammed? Why not thank him, instead of pray to him? Why not view him, as a human, who was inspired by God, to write the Koran? Why not view him, as a great person, rather than as an idol? Is that not cultism? Is that not dangerous? Is that not violence? Why not view him as a regular human, who breathed and ate just like us? Why not view him as so, so that we wouldn’t take him for an idol? What if this is the obstacle blocking people from believing in Islam with clarity? What if Muhammed never wanted this violence? What if he never wanted us to pray to him? What if he wanted us to be individuals, instead of followers? Why do we continue to follow down this road through the generations?

  Is it not God, the manifestation of life, that is the source of all beauty? Why do we claim Muhammed to be the last prophet? Why do we take him to be above us all? Was he not a human, just like us, who breathed and saw the way we did? What if he didn’t actually encounter God, but was only inspired by God, the manifestation of life? What if we got it all misunderstood? What if we are violent because we are misunderstanding Islam?

  Why is Sufism regarded as blasphemy, when it is only a spiritual side to Islam? Why do we hate mysticism, and label it as black magic? Is not mysticism a means to live spiritually, and fully, from your heart? Why is everyone so caught deep in the game?

  Why not leave our religion to ourselves? Why not let atheists be as they may, and us as we may?

  Why do the Jews continue to fight for their holy Land? Is this what God wants? Do you think God takes sides? Do you think that God is with the Jews, or with the Muslims? Do you think God is enjoying watching people die over a supposed piece of holy land? Do you think we are in our right spiritual states?

  Why do we fight to grow in number? Is it just to be more content with our religion? Is it because we want to rule the world? Is it truly because we want to inspire people with our religion, or is it just a game, in which you want to claim victory?

  Is this what God wants, people separating themselves into different religions? Is this what God wants, dividing humanity into bits and pieces? Is this what God wants, us taking humans for demigods? Is this what god wants, us to be restricted by dogmas? Is this what God wants, us to fear hell in the afterlife? Is this what God wants, us to hope for heaven, and miss out on the present?

  Do you think God, sees it as moral to impose our religious beliefs upon our young ones? Do you think that God appreciates violence in his name? Do you think, that God would inspire a totalitarian agenda? Or do you think, that God wished to spread it with peace, until it naturally blesses the Earth?

  Do you think, that Moses, Jesus, or Muhammed, would have liked to see these protests that are going on today? Do you think, that they would be proud of the people they were trying to inspire with God? Do you think, that this is the world that God wished to mold? Or do you think, that we are too far caught in the game, to even see anymore?

  What if atheists were always wrong? What if, Einstein believed in God for a reason? What if religious people are wrong, because they aren’t truly religious? What if being truly religious, is only true of a minority of people? What if people who claim to be Muslims, are not really Muslims at all?

  How can you claim yourself to be a sunni, if you barely even read the Koran? How can you claim yourself to be a Salafi, if you probably haven’t even read the hadiths? How can you deny that you’re a Sufi, if you love God?

  Why do we refuse and reject all other philosophies? How can we be open minded if we are as so? Why do we claim anything outside the scope of Islam as Kufr? Do not some of them also worship the same God? Why do we remain in the footsteps of our forefathers? Is this not blinding us?

  Why do we take sharia as absolute law? Why do we refuse to challenge it? How can we advance if we don’t? What if Bukhari got some of his stuff wrong? What if it wasn’t all so accurate? What if we are merely obeying them out of fear? Does God want this, us to worship him out of fear?

  Why do we continue to shout out, death to America? Why do we continue to shout out, death to Israel? Why do we continue to show attitude of violence? Why not forgive what has happened, and move forth? What if right now, they continue to attack us, because we refuse to forget, and move forward? What if they are attacking us, because we refuse to forgive, the same way the prophet would? What if they continue to attack us because we refuse to let go, of the past? Why do we boil so much hatred in our hearts? Is this cycle ever going to end, one side not forgiving, and one side continuing violence?

  Will we ever see truth of the situation? Am I wrong? Are we all wrong? Am I a madman? Are we all mad? Are we not caught too far down the game of hatred and violence? Will we not awaken? Will we not again see the light of peace?

  What if God sees us as lost people? Do you think God cares about who owns the holy land? Do you think God gambles, to see who wins? Do you think that God inspires us to hate? Do you think, that out of all the galaxies that roam out there to discover, our wars are of any significance?

  Are we not caught in a deep cycle, of madness? Or am I just mad? Are we all lost in a cycle, of hating and cursing one another? Or am I just lost? Are we all caught in a game of religion, in which one has to conquer the other?

  Do you think God created religion? Or did religion project false Gods? Do you think that God meant for religion to exist, or have we just made it, out of our own hands? Is it uniting humanity, or dividing us? Is it aiding us, or separating us? Is it casting love, or instilling fear? Is it blocking out freedom, or embracing it?

  Do you think that being religious is following a certain sect, or a certain dogma? Do you think being religious means to obey a set of commands, and fear hell? Do you think being religious, is shouting out the name of Allah, as we continue our violence against those who don’t believe? Do you think that being religious, means us fighting one another until one tribe conquers the land of the other?

  Do you think we are being open, by calling anything against Islam as absolute blasphemy? Do you think we are being open, by rejecting anyone who wished to challenge Islam? Do you think we are being open, by punishing apostasy with death? Do you think we are being open, by regarding all other philosophies as rejecting God’s words? Do you think we are being open, by not allowing the Bible and Torah into our countries? Do you think we are being open, if we regard music as not suitable? Are we being open, by continuing to impose our beliefs upon our children? Will we not give them a chance to choose? How far down this game are we caught?

  Do you think we are sharing understanding, by brainwashing our children to hate Israel? Do you think we are sharing understanding, by creating countries in which any word against the prophet is equated with death? Do you think we are sharing understanding, if we refuse to challenge, the dogmas, of the quiet past?

  Do you think the being a fervent Sunni means being religious? Do you think that taking the words of Muhammed, who ate and drank like we did, who breathed and saw like we did, who smiled and laughed as we did, who talked and walked like we did, as absolute truth? What if we was not a prophet? What if he was just an apostle, with an important message? What if he was just a regular man like us, who was simply inspired by God to write the Koran so beautifully?

  Do you think that Muhammed wished of us to pray for him? DO you think that he wanted us to take him as a demigod?

  Do you think that the Koran truly provides peace? Is it not true that most of its verses all filled with hellish warning? Are not most of its verses filled with negative content? Are not most of its verses made to instill fear? Am I wrong? Tell me! Are not most of its verses made only to fear punishment in the afterlife? Are we not blinded? Or am I just blind? Or we not all in a mass state of hypnotism? Or was I the victim of hypnotism? Why do we not dare challenge the Koran? Why do we keep it as completely holy, and sacred?

  Why do we continue to live in fear, of not expressing our true opinions? Why are we all caught in a theocracy in which everyone is bound with death if anyone speaks anything against Islam? Are we not all caught in a theocracy? Or am I just insane? Or am I just lost in my own frail dreams?

  Why do we take the Koran word for word? Is not poetry? Have we been hypnotized by the beauty of its rhymes? Have we come to accept it as the truth, merely because it sounds so beautiful to the ears? How is it beautiful, when it constantly warns of hell? Does that not bring hell down to Earth? How can we define the books of Islam as only the Koran and Sunnah? Are we not constricting ourselves? Are we not limiting ourselves to greater potential?

  Why do we even define Islam? Why do we even label it as a certain set of beliefs? Why complicate it? Why put rules, and oppress our women? Why put rules, to define our moral beliefs? Does not morality come of itself, when we believe in God? Does not morality come by itself, when we remember God?

  When you look at the skies, do you remember God, or Muhammed? When you look at the beauty of life, do you remember God, or Muhammed? When you listen to wondrous music, do you remember God, or Muhammed? When you hear the sounds of birds singing along the breeze, do you remember God, or Muhammed? When you put your hand on your heart, and it races of love, do you remember God, or Muhammed? When you draw beautiful portraits of nature, using your boundless imagination, do you remember God, or Muhammed?

  Am I insane? I really don’t know. Have I lost it? I really can’t tell. I write this not to anyone. It is only a recording of my thoughts. Thoughts that have tormented me, yet enlightened me. I can’t say for sure why I’m writing this, but I am.

  No sense, a never ending well this world is. You can’t seem to see the truth. And when you do, it hurts your eyes. And when you do, it pains your heart. But it is good pain. Sometimes pain is necessary, to bring out true light, from within the darkness.

  These are merely notes of someone who can’t seem to figure anything out. I don’t know if anyone would understand, but I am writing it anyway.

Ch.2

  Does God want war, or peace? Does he want hatred, or love? Does he want corruption, or tranquility? Does he favor grudges, and deny forgiveness? Does he take sides with Jews, or with Muslims? Does he play dice? Does God appreciate what we are doing?

  Does God wish for us to follow, or become individuals? Does he want you to idolize Muhammed, or simply think of him as a great man? Does God want you to think of Muhammed in your prayers? Does he want you to associate man with him?

  Am I wrong to say that Muhammed has written the Koran? Am I wrong to think of it that way? Am I being blasphemous? Am I being mad, to think of Muhammed as a regular human? Am I not trying to avoid cultism? Am I wrong, for trying to take only God as my refuge?

  Am I wrong to say, that we don’t even need the Koran to believe in God? Am I wrong to say, that we don’t need the hadiths to believe in God? Am I wrong to say, that we don’t need the history of Islam, to believe in God? Am I wrong to say, that we only need the present, to believe in God?

  Am I insane, to think that we don’t need the Koran, to think of God? Am I insane, to think that we don’t need the words of Sheikhs, to dance with God? Am I insane, to think of God as the manifestation of life? Am I insane, to think of God, as one with our souls, rather than separate from us?

  Are these questions not meant to be asked? Is the Koran a way of keeping people in line? Is it a way of preventing chaos? Or is it a means to control minds? Is it a means to provide peace? Or is it a means to instill fear? I really can’t tell. It’s all too, confusing.

  Do you think that Muhammed would like to see this chaos? Would he really? I can’t tell for sure. Maybe he did.

Ch.3

  I want to end it all. I just want to jump off a bridge. I just want to punch the living hell out of something. I want to release my rage. I want chaos. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. I don’t really know. I got a punching bag. I punch it until my knuckles bleed. Catharsis.

  It’s horrifying, the way I keep seeing the world. Things are torn in two. One side of me Sunni, one side of me Sufi. I’m trying to become fully Sufi. I am trying to break free. It’s too hard. Too much dogma, echoing in my head. Too much Koran, still whispering in my ears.

  Maybe the Koran itself is a test from God. Maybe God is testing us, to see if we can break free from its spell. Maybe he never did anything, and the Koran was man’s creation. Such a realization kills me. I firmly believed in it. Not I see the Koran, slowly fading into history. Slowly, bit by bit, dissolving into the background.

  Slowly, life is leaving my body. I can feel it. I don’t know if I’m dying, to become reborn again. I really don’t.

Ch.4