Big Boys Can Cry

Lost in the crowd, you march. You realize that one day, you're bound to be at the front of the row. Held over shoulders, delivered. Among thousands you stand yet you are alone, an army of one. Eventually, among billions you lay yet you are alone. For the time being, you question the things you own. You question if those things are owning you, instead of it being the other way round. You know nothing of what you own lasts, but you can not let go. You admit to yourself that you still do not know.

Among thousands you stand, alone, picturing the day among billions you lay, alone.

This time, you start to appreciate the things you have. A simple truth hits you: the more you share, the richer you become. Most important is time. You realize that time is an investment. One which is more secure when you are sorrounded by your partners. One faith. One book.

You look around and see nothing but your misdoings. Things that deep down inside you know should have never been there in the first place. You do not feel the weight on your shoulders; you do not feel it on your chest. It does not make you weak. You just know.

That's when you feel your single tear trickling down your cheek, seeding from your eye. You think you're not the man you were; and you're grateful for it. You realize that when you admit to not knowing, you are knowing it all. When you understand the fact that humilation of this sort showers you with pride.

One hot, steamy, burning tear. You worry about your friends and family seeing you. But then again you hope so dearly that everyone sees you. A conflict, if you would, with the demon "I". You still don't grasp the concept of 'your humilation is your pride', because you fail to acknowledge the other dimension to life.

Now you get it. You are not what you want people to see you as. You are what you are. You are only the man you think you are when you know that and have no problem in letting everyone know it.

Easier said than done, you hold back the second tear. You try to convince yourself that it is burning your skin and would rather not go through the ordeal. Then it hits you.

With this fire of your tear, you are putting out the fire of your doings. Sure, you get greedy. But then you remember that you are not fooling anyone when you fool everyone but yourself.

The voice inside you urges you to wipe off your tear and 'be a man'. You feel the hurt now since you yourself want to destroy yourself by such a thought. You feel the lump in your throat. The voice inside strangling your neck. You swallow, zooming the voice inside to oblivion; a third tear slides from the corner of your eye. It gives you pride by taking your pride as you understand it. You stand corrected.

Then it hits you. Not only are you not what you want people to see you as; you are also not what you want yourself to be. You have no say in the matter. Once you think you have a say, you are saying that you are worthless. It's that simple, you tell yourself, that you can't believe you didn't see it before.

You feel the warmth of your retired soul inside of you. It reassures you that you are doing the right thing.

You struggle to squeeze the fourth tear out of the corner of your eye. You try to cheat by pressing on your eyes. Then you remember, you would only be fooling yourself. Again, once you understand that; you feel that sweet sour burning cool humilating empowering sensation firing up your skin, digging into your pride as 'a man' and stripping you from it as you used to understand it.

You feel sorry for the 'you' you were just a second ago. You are now a whole new other person. Courtesy of four burning tears; and your belief in Allah.

Now, you can call yourself 'man'.

(Gol inn thallalto fa inama athello 3ala nafsi wa inn ihtadayto fa bimaa you7y ilayya rabbi innaho samee3oon gareeb)