We are all pencils.
Twisting and turning through life
Leaving trails of sharpening and destruction
In paths of a pursuit for a point
So sharp, so defined, so beyond
Our egotistical minds that our
Application comes readily with complication
That what we have found so precise , applied
Turn to black dust on the page of scrolls
Which sought to write our deeds, unachieved
Or worst still the paper rips beneath our feet
As we, toil in our deceit that from books shall gain
Life complete , unanswered questions responded to
Long ago but we are lost from a path straight because
We wait for coordinates to a place without a need
These pencils were meant to write and the plight of us
Is that our headstrong need to be wise has brought lies
To bodies knowing but not doing as the
lead of these pencils thins
The journey from death begins
O you who believe! Why do you say that which you do not do?
Most hateful it is with Allâh that you say that which you do not do.
'I have not created men and jinn except to worship Me.'
Surah Al Dhariyat