Our caps flew like confetti.
Thank god I customized mine.
I'll keep it as a memento of all-nighters,
friendships formed in the academic trenches,
dismissive professors and group-project-tortures.

This isn’t another ‘drunk girl’ holiday, despite obvious similarities.
Our parents, sisters, brothers, and grandmothers are here.

We came in doe-eyed, holding overpriced planners,
and enough provisions for two year Mars missions.
We hoped to discover friends, decent Wi-Fi signals
and perhaps our adult selves.

Now we're holding diplomas, those future-proofing talismans.
Mine’s in molecular biophysics and biochemistry.
Which is wry, because when I was in high school,
my sister accused me of not knowing how to boil water.

I've been asked "What’s next?" a thousand times in the last month.
I have plans—but I was dying to shrug and say, “that’s tomorrow’s problem,” like I’ve spent major duckets, degree wise, but remain the ditzy blonde.
The standard graduate answer, I’ve heard, is "I dunno."
(though honestly, it’s a great answer).

Congratulations, all of you graduating overachievers out there—everywhere.
Go forth, be fabulous and find that next big dream.
Can you believe we actually did this?
Argh! I gotta go, someone wants another picture.
.
.
Songs for this:
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
Summer Wind by Robert Mosci
Tomorrow by Wings

to my summer breeze
heavy rain and quiet night —
lie down next to me

Swans in love enchant
Upon the lake blue mist parts
Nature spirits wake

She was a nun...




(...to be continued...)

My very special son,
You are the treasured gift,
And blessings of my life,
With a beautiful soul and a beautiful mind,
Unique,one of a kind.
My proudest moment is when I tell others you are my son,
My reason to smile,
My listening ear,
Thank you for all that you have been,
And always be in my life,.
A son who never misses to call me before his day begins,
Thank you Allah for I am blessed.
14/5/2025

For Her
Appearance doesn't matter,
But a kind heart does.
Unwanted attention? No.
A true shoulder to lean on — yes.
Fake concerns don’t move her,
But sincere words always will.

Yes —
She may seem strange to you,
Because you can't decipher her soul.
She’s a rare gem
Amid all the world’s noisy pleasures...
She shines brightest
In the quiet kingdom of her own world.

The cloud is crumbling,
Rainy day ahead,
The air is soaked
The flavour of heavy soil.

New life is born
In the depths of the merciful Earth
We are all Her sons and daughters.