These are the hectic hands juggling
Coals we must collect without burning
Truth is in this darkness no diamonds shine
And what once was a dream resides in an unopened history
I do not have the heart to read these things once again
I know now to grab the glass I break
Whether it fits in the crease of my palm
If we bleed , we bleed , we all bleed red
So let my humanity stain every endeavour
May my regret not tear and cool the coals
May I suffer if it rips my soul from limbs
May I suffer if the sweetness is to teach the heart to want
May I find amongst the shards unwanted dreams
Let me walk if walking is the only way to find a way
And let my hands touch more coals than the wholehearted-
Could dream to know
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
Thursday, 11 December 2014
Spiritual Limbo III
Impressions stamped upon the forehead
We cannot escape
Left unstable with these mounting trinkets
Gold plated wood
The goodness amassed for frail hearts
Reaches no veins and in vain
We wait thinking foundations will not buckle
Under the pressure of the external
I am not rich
Just a poor soul trying to pay off it's debts
Towards God is the procession
We cannot escape
Left unstable with these mounting trinkets
Gold plated wood
The goodness amassed for frail hearts
Reaches no veins and in vain
We wait thinking foundations will not buckle
Under the pressure of the external
I am not rich
Just a poor soul trying to pay off it's debts
Towards God is the procession
Sunday, 16 November 2014
Ramble
Compromise is unutterable , an ugly, heavy word, forming uncomfortably in the small print.
It was not my intention to write this here , to write this , to write.
Sometimes I wonder at the paradox of principle . The excellence in the grandiose , the simplicity in excellence . I demean the latter despite lacking the moral fibre to achieve it.
When I think of compromise , I think of betrayal and the bitterness of that gives way to humanity. A compromise rooted in betrayal rooted in compromise.
Life has always been full circle and never quite straight lines .
Are you feeding a hypocrisy ? Or are you trying to shirk your responsibilities ? An old friend told me to give back , I give aghast at the quality of that which I have to give.
Most days I think of the brevity of life. My bones ache in loss , I trade in loss , I meet and greet in loss , I walk in loss.
She told me that ' every soul is continually tasting death'
I don't stop here. I don't stop at the edge of every unique reality to remind myself there is an optimum . A perfection in the handling of every moment.
We are so intertwined that it has become our detachment . Our pale faced denial.
Do you value love and progress and goodness more than vulnerability. Why is it so often a hidden pride masking all our wounds ?
Dear world, this is where I fell. Do not fall here too.
It was not my intention to write this here , to write this , to write.
Sometimes I wonder at the paradox of principle . The excellence in the grandiose , the simplicity in excellence . I demean the latter despite lacking the moral fibre to achieve it.
When I think of compromise , I think of betrayal and the bitterness of that gives way to humanity. A compromise rooted in betrayal rooted in compromise.
Life has always been full circle and never quite straight lines .
Are you feeding a hypocrisy ? Or are you trying to shirk your responsibilities ? An old friend told me to give back , I give aghast at the quality of that which I have to give.
Most days I think of the brevity of life. My bones ache in loss , I trade in loss , I meet and greet in loss , I walk in loss.
She told me that ' every soul is continually tasting death'
I don't stop here. I don't stop at the edge of every unique reality to remind myself there is an optimum . A perfection in the handling of every moment.
We are so intertwined that it has become our detachment . Our pale faced denial.
Do you value love and progress and goodness more than vulnerability. Why is it so often a hidden pride masking all our wounds ?
Dear world, this is where I fell. Do not fall here too.
Saturday, 8 November 2014
Numb
Tell me where it is supposed to hurt
On which wound should my tears sting
If all my veins are lined with hypocrisy
Maybe I sold my soul too cheap
Took a faith as fleeting
Can't even pinpoint where
Did it all go wrong ?
I sit with my old self on rainy days
One foot in the grave , a heart filled with dust
Of shame
Its strange
Maybe my mind is fire
That my limbs will taste
Perhaps your words made knots in my fate
Tell me where do I begin
Crave a silence too deep for a body to withstand
Bound to that which isn't sacrificed
Sacrificed along with that which isn't bound
Forgive me for misendeavors
The vilified victim , the victimized villain
The lines blur to no discernible end
It's strange
Tell me something I do not know -
But make me understand
On which wound should my tears sting
If all my veins are lined with hypocrisy
Maybe I sold my soul too cheap
Took a faith as fleeting
Can't even pinpoint where
Did it all go wrong ?
I sit with my old self on rainy days
One foot in the grave , a heart filled with dust
Of shame
Its strange
Maybe my mind is fire
That my limbs will taste
Perhaps your words made knots in my fate
Tell me where do I begin
Crave a silence too deep for a body to withstand
Bound to that which isn't sacrificed
Sacrificed along with that which isn't bound
Forgive me for misendeavors
The vilified victim , the victimized villain
The lines blur to no discernible end
It's strange
Tell me something I do not know -
But make me understand
Sunday, 31 August 2014
On Beauty and Weddings III
Bloodlines disperse with belief
These generations are untraceable
Unteachable , unbelievable
I hold my breath when she tells me
I feel religiosity stuck in our throats
It hurts and we diverge
Like pebbles in the sea
Ask me about beauty
I would say she runs
Like a glass thread through our hearts
Transparency in being
Sincerity in action
Caught somewhere awkward
Where unsaid truths tick away another hour
The outcome of our collective childhood
Is bitter sweet tongues and
Distance growing weeds
A half bloom of flowers
that may never see another spring
I want to sit where the river splits
I want to understand
Thawban related that the Messenger of Allah said: "The nations are about to call each other and set upon you, just as diners set upon food."
It was said: "Will it be because of our small number that day?"
He said: "Rather, on that day you will be many, but you will be like foam, like the foam on the river. And Allah will remove the fear of you from the hearts of your enemies and will throw wahn (weakness) into your hearts."
Someone said: "O Messenger of Allah! What is wahn?" He said: "Love of the world and the hatred for death."
These generations are untraceable
Unteachable , unbelievable
I hold my breath when she tells me
I feel religiosity stuck in our throats
It hurts and we diverge
Like pebbles in the sea
Ask me about beauty
I would say she runs
Like a glass thread through our hearts
Transparency in being
Sincerity in action
Caught somewhere awkward
Where unsaid truths tick away another hour
The outcome of our collective childhood
Is bitter sweet tongues and
Distance growing weeds
A half bloom of flowers
that may never see another spring
I want to sit where the river splits
I want to understand
Thawban related that the Messenger of Allah said: "The nations are about to call each other and set upon you, just as diners set upon food."
It was said: "Will it be because of our small number that day?"
He said: "Rather, on that day you will be many, but you will be like foam, like the foam on the river. And Allah will remove the fear of you from the hearts of your enemies and will throw wahn (weakness) into your hearts."
Someone said: "O Messenger of Allah! What is wahn?" He said: "Love of the world and the hatred for death."
Wednesday, 13 August 2014
Anonymous
Nameless, faceless pills to stifle the ego
I am not here to kill my lower self
If I nurtute her in darkness perhaps
Then and only then will she seek light
I should take my hesitations, place them
Under the watching of God
Speechless
Absence is an elixr for the restless
And such sincerity comes into question
If the auditorium was empty
How loud would I speak ?
So I'm pealing back the layers to the essence
Find the who behind the what
Clarify the why's
But I am labelled
Easily identified
Discerning eyes swallow my words
I speak of goodness
Though there is little goodness in me
May God mask the shame of what I've become
I am not here to kill my lower self
If I nurtute her in darkness perhaps
Then and only then will she seek light
I should take my hesitations, place them
Under the watching of God
Speechless
Absence is an elixr for the restless
And such sincerity comes into question
If the auditorium was empty
How loud would I speak ?
So I'm pealing back the layers to the essence
Find the who behind the what
Clarify the why's
But I am labelled
Easily identified
Discerning eyes swallow my words
I speak of goodness
Though there is little goodness in me
May God mask the shame of what I've become
Sunday, 29 June 2014
Spiritual Limbo II
I am lost
Wandering
Vague steps towards God
Associated negativities pile
Hearts in their dying breaths
Plead , can't you find any good
The world is muffled
There are layers upon layers
Numbing the hurt of living
Guidance flickers in the distance
What a beautiful religion
Woe to an ugly approach
There are no homes on this borderline
Just a lonely tight rope
To a garden , they say
But worldly burdens weigh
And words disappear
Into the black canvas of my heart
Wandering
Vague steps towards God
Associated negativities pile
Hearts in their dying breaths
Plead , can't you find any good
The world is muffled
There are layers upon layers
Numbing the hurt of living
Guidance flickers in the distance
What a beautiful religion
Woe to an ugly approach
There are no homes on this borderline
Just a lonely tight rope
To a garden , they say
But worldly burdens weigh
And words disappear
Into the black canvas of my heart
Tuesday, 17 June 2014
Continuity
All dirt and no seeds
My mind is a wasteland of thoughts
Trying to find a dream
Its all in simplicity
One foot after the other
But there are people piling deeds in their sleep
A fool would sprint a marathon
But these idle feet grow restless
And it isn't about shortcuts
Just reassurance that it'll be enough
Dreams elude me nowadays
But I'm searching for a deed so pleasing to God
I think when I find it
I won't tell a soul
About the gardens in my heart
Reported by ‘Aisha (RA): Allah’s Apostle (peace be upon him) said, “Do good deeds properly, sincerely and moderately and know that your deeds will not make you enter Paradise, and that the most beloved deed to Allah’s is the most regular and constant even though it were little.”
Bukhari
The Messenger (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “When a man dies, his good deeds come to an end except three: ongoing charity, beneficial knowledge and a righteous son who will pray for him.”
Muslim, 3084.
“Amazing is the affair of the believer, verily all of his affair is good and this is not for no one except the believer. If something of good/happiness befalls him he is grateful and that is good for him. If something of harm befalls him he is patient and that is good for him” Saheeh Muslim #2999
My mind is a wasteland of thoughts
Trying to find a dream
Its all in simplicity
One foot after the other
But there are people piling deeds in their sleep
A fool would sprint a marathon
But these idle feet grow restless
And it isn't about shortcuts
Just reassurance that it'll be enough
Dreams elude me nowadays
But I'm searching for a deed so pleasing to God
I think when I find it
I won't tell a soul
About the gardens in my heart
Reported by ‘Aisha (RA): Allah’s Apostle (peace be upon him) said, “Do good deeds properly, sincerely and moderately and know that your deeds will not make you enter Paradise, and that the most beloved deed to Allah’s is the most regular and constant even though it were little.”
Bukhari
The Messenger (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “When a man dies, his good deeds come to an end except three: ongoing charity, beneficial knowledge and a righteous son who will pray for him.”
Muslim, 3084.
“Amazing is the affair of the believer, verily all of his affair is good and this is not for no one except the believer. If something of good/happiness befalls him he is grateful and that is good for him. If something of harm befalls him he is patient and that is good for him” Saheeh Muslim #2999
Friday, 13 June 2014
A Gift
Bought on whim
It reminded me of you for
All the wrong reasons
Means meet ends behind
A small silver box
Associations taint our spirits
Sins said with our names
Till we forget the sting of unfamiliarity
Forgive me but the only gift worth giving
Is taking you by the hand and running
But how limp are our hands
We're packaged in lies
We suffocate
I'm sending empty parcels to God
Hoping he will fill these void vessels
With lightened chests and a once lost innocence
"When the servant performs a sin a black spot appears on his heart, and if he seeks forgiveness this black spot is removed, and if he returns to sin the black spot grows until his heart becomes black, and this is the 'Raan' about which Allah said, 'On their hearts is the covering of sins (raan) which they used to earn.'" (Qur'an, 83:14)
(Hadith An-Nasa'i and Al-Tirmidhi)
It reminded me of you for
All the wrong reasons
Means meet ends behind
A small silver box
Associations taint our spirits
Sins said with our names
Till we forget the sting of unfamiliarity
Forgive me but the only gift worth giving
Is taking you by the hand and running
But how limp are our hands
We're packaged in lies
We suffocate
I'm sending empty parcels to God
Hoping he will fill these void vessels
With lightened chests and a once lost innocence
"When the servant performs a sin a black spot appears on his heart, and if he seeks forgiveness this black spot is removed, and if he returns to sin the black spot grows until his heart becomes black, and this is the 'Raan' about which Allah said, 'On their hearts is the covering of sins (raan) which they used to earn.'" (Qur'an, 83:14)
(Hadith An-Nasa'i and Al-Tirmidhi)
Monday, 2 June 2014
Epidemic
There is an onset of fever
Brewing within a timid heart
My silence left incomplete without
A few paltry lines
In dedication to people who'll seldom read
There is a heaviness of undone deeds
Of pulling words that were never said
Till all that is left is the fabric of life
Exposing the raw mistakes of cold limbs
Shall I smile because I cannot cry
Shall the names be changed
Whilst stories remained untouched
It's not raining, it's not Friday
But history has taught me
That it doesn't need to be
All these half words lodge in my throat
There is an discomfort to this familiarity
I'm on the wrong side of the street
It is reported that Al-Fudayl b. ‘Ayyād – Allāh have mercy on him – said:Whoever sees a wrongdoing from his brother and then laughs in front of him has betrayed him.
Brewing within a timid heart
My silence left incomplete without
A few paltry lines
In dedication to people who'll seldom read
There is a heaviness of undone deeds
Of pulling words that were never said
Till all that is left is the fabric of life
Exposing the raw mistakes of cold limbs
Shall I smile because I cannot cry
Shall the names be changed
Whilst stories remained untouched
It's not raining, it's not Friday
But history has taught me
That it doesn't need to be
All these half words lodge in my throat
There is an discomfort to this familiarity
I'm on the wrong side of the street
It is reported that Al-Fudayl b. ‘Ayyād – Allāh have mercy on him – said:Whoever sees a wrongdoing from his brother and then laughs in front of him has betrayed him.
Abū Bakr Al-Daynūrī, Al-Mujālasah wa Jawāhir Al-’Ilm 5:115
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Good News
She tried to write with rain
Though her reflections ran true
I am lack of sincerity
Muddled advices
And time in the pursuit of you
She tried to write with rain
Cup destiny in the palms of her hand
Tired limbs regress
Pillows find heavy heads
She tried to write with rain
But words morph
Mercy paints masterpieces
Across open horizons at dawn
I asked for little
And I got more
I tried to write with rain
Time passes slowly
Around familiar streets
Plot twists weave in and out of hearts
I watch your life turn
Almost a stranger traverses traffic
Open arms
I hear the final chapter play
You don't need to do any more
By the forenoon
And by the night when it is still
Your Lord (O Muhammad ()) has neither forsaken you nor hated you.
And indeed the Hereafter is better for you than the present
And verily, your Lord will give you (all i.e. good) so that you shall be well-pleased.
Did He not find you (O Muhammad ()) an orphan and gave you a refuge?
And He found you unaware and guided you?
And He found you poor, and made you rich ?
Therefore, treat not the orphan with oppression,
And repulse not the beggar;And proclaim the Grace of your Lord Surah Duha
Though her reflections ran true
I am lack of sincerity
Muddled advices
And time in the pursuit of you
She tried to write with rain
Cup destiny in the palms of her hand
Tired limbs regress
Pillows find heavy heads
She tried to write with rain
But words morph
Mercy paints masterpieces
Across open horizons at dawn
I asked for little
And I got more
I tried to write with rain
Time passes slowly
Around familiar streets
Plot twists weave in and out of hearts
I watch your life turn
Almost a stranger traverses traffic
Open arms
I hear the final chapter play
You don't need to do any more
By the forenoon
And by the night when it is still
Your Lord (O Muhammad ()) has neither forsaken you nor hated you.
And indeed the Hereafter is better for you than the present
And verily, your Lord will give you (all i.e. good) so that you shall be well-pleased.
Did He not find you (O Muhammad ()) an orphan and gave you a refuge?
And He found you unaware and guided you?
And He found you poor, and made you rich ?
Therefore, treat not the orphan with oppression,
And repulse not the beggar;And proclaim the Grace of your Lord Surah Duha
Saturday, 4 January 2014
Frozen
It would be a dream to say
The pages of my book drew dust
That nothing passed in my absence
If life was to freeze on peace
Are my hands too numb to read
All the things I've written
So tell me about my departure
Oh but how could it be
When you were on my lips
My hands cupped
Towards a Lord of all the Lords
Upon a throne,
Within a night
Amongst the rain
I hope that some things
Would never change
If I was an ice sculpture
In that moment
All I am in need of
is shade
The pages of my book drew dust
That nothing passed in my absence
If life was to freeze on peace
Are my hands too numb to read
All the things I've written
So tell me about my departure
Oh but how could it be
When you were on my lips
My hands cupped
Towards a Lord of all the Lords
Upon a throne,
Within a night
Amongst the rain
I hope that some things
Would never change
If I was an ice sculpture
In that moment
All I am in need of
is shade
Jabbir reported :I heard Allah's Apostle (ﷺ) as saying. Every servant would be raised (in the same very state) in which he dies
Sahih Muslim 2878
Sahih Muslim 2878
There are seven whom Allah ill shade in His Shade on the Day when there is no shade except His Shade: a just ruler; a youth who grew up in the worship of Allah, the Mighty and Majestic; a man whose heart is attached to the mosques; two men who love each other for Allah's sake, meeting for that and parting upon that; a man who is called by a woman of beauty and position [for illegal intercourse], but be says: 'I fear Allah', a man who gives in charity and hides it, such that his left hand does not know what his right hand gives in charity; and a man who remembered Allah in private and so his eyes shed tears.'
Narrated by Abu Hurairah
Narrated by Abu Hurairah
Sahih al-Bukhari & Sahih Muslim
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