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Farook Suyarov Oct 2017
It's intricating, to trace back the evolution of my faith.
It was a journey with undefined beginning and unknown roots.
How wonderful, to speculate over metamorphosis of your soul,
to observe paths you've taken and places you've abandoned.
First, i was quite amateur, thought faith was a sign of weakness.
Some portrayed a believer in God as fearful person, running for cover.
Next, i was indifferent, chose not to care.
Faith was a ****** territory for me, that i've never dared to explore.
Then, suddenly,  it stroke me like a lighting in a sunny day.
I've become passionate and devoted.
Subscribed ardently to every sign of divine and life became vexingly complicated.
Every event, every word was a source of confusion.
So i indulged myself in science,
became suspicious of religion and rituals.
Was confident that truth can be reached by senses.
I thought about omniscience of progress,
but lately have come to know, that however i try, logic is an infinite loop that will keep me curious but never satisfied.
I've realised, that Faith is an unconditional belief. One, that Bill Graham had when walking into the bush and contemplating about Bible.
He thought, man can't decide on authencity of scripture, he should just believe in it.
So i did.
I said, whatever comes i'll be humble, whenever uncertain i'll follow the rules.
You know what Niebuhr said about love, that if you value the result you'll never get to truth. You'll be free when you foresake desire, when disinterestedness becomes your realm. When you loose your face, forget grace, detach from everything, that you used to praise.
Jim Jul 2022
From my voice
But not from me
You have a choice
Yet, vexingly

Free will may not be what it seems
Again not from me, strangedly

The voice it chanels simple things...

Embrace the downs
Relish the ups
Easy to drown
But enough is enough

It's upon thee to understand
There's primal prosperity in a giving hand

Simple enough, no its not
Pressures mount, ***** them out
Give, give, give... give what you can
Ayn Jan 2020
Math is a wonderful subject.
Pushing numbers through
Variously evil algorithms.

But I cannot stop writing
During this intriguing class.
I want to listen, and I do
But I’m also weaving verses
Made up of muddy threads.

My math notebook has
A large quantity of poems.
And finding that one formula
Is like looking for that one minnow
In a pond of vexingly vigorous carps.
Yep. Tbh I love all my subjects, I’m really good at learning stuff and I like knowledge. I just find it funny that I only write in math.

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