tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85434312880802511902024-03-14T10:30:59.334+00:00Hijaabi in the Rainin the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.comBlogger217125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-73001208165537752012020-02-02T01:51:00.000+00:002020-02-02T01:51:14.611+00:00Misgivings You paint and I ride the curve of that letter<div>
Spirituality is where the well is </div>
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Dry tears and split hearts </div>
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If I unpack the earth then how will we know what will grow </div>
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The thing is these seeds are unrecognisable</div>
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These words have merged into the same end point </div>
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There is no thirst where we have been consumed </div>
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A heart is not a heart when split in two </div>
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in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-22407391571608531792017-11-12T18:27:00.001+00:002017-11-12T18:27:21.207+00:00DriftYou drift back to old dreams, and try to pull the fallen light into reality. Here where your flesh wrote and your heart felt, you've left something of yourself. If I told you where I'd been the people I met , the things I'd seen. Look at me, would you still look at me. These black hearts and eloquent tongues pave paths we aren't worthy of walking.in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-18671021024891231602016-08-09T08:33:00.000+01:002016-08-09T08:33:20.127+01:00Apt Dear readers / assalamu alaikum<br />
<br />
I didn't achieve even 1% of what I set out to do when I made this blog. For reasons that are somewhat painful to explain I will no longer be writing poetry . I just want to apologise to all the people I haven't replied to/ kept in contact with properly - I don't really have any excuse just shortcomings in character.<br />
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Alhamdulillah I am well for those who have asked.<br />
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Please remember to make dua for yourselves, God listens to the one who is need . <br />
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I feel like I've been watching home videos , you know the ones that are slightly lopsided and the colour is fading at the edges. And this is the last reel of tape. in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-76350685685362505802016-07-13T15:58:00.000+01:002016-07-13T15:58:23.800+01:00Gardens within Gardens Life is bitter but God is sweet<br />
All the endings are rewritten to have twice what we leave<br />
Oh dweller of the grave speak <br />
Gave away your world<br />
Six foot deep remorse<br />
Thus your return was peace , complete<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">( in reference to an old favourite )</span><br />
<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-17643687311160156832016-05-04T20:59:00.001+01:002016-05-04T20:59:36.625+01:00DuaI am grateful for the sadness<br />
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That bloomed into their joy </div>
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This is what I asked for </div>
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I mutter prayers so only God can hear me </div>
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Between all the mundane happenings of living</div>
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The sky has been all the shades of bluebells recently</div>
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I've written beautiful things in untraceable ink </div>
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The corners of their smiles don't know their own roots </div>
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Imam shafi said about the arrows in the night </div>
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They've been orbiting you since before you knew </div>
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in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-21769091885625042652016-05-03T16:22:00.001+01:002016-05-03T16:29:19.690+01:00...Are you afraid of sadness<br />
Do you think that this will be like the heavy rains you once knew<br />
The type that mould the earth they land on<br />
<br />
In my mind there is a bench of iron<br />
Sat beneath bubblegum cherry blossom<br />
A little girl is singing her voice sounds like tears<br />
<br />
I have happy poems beneath a thumb and a finger<br />
Between promises of a tomorrow that is sweeter than today<br />
<br />
I see beauty and it swells in my heart<br />
it overfills , spills onto grey pavements<br />
Moments I can't keep , can't share<br />
<br />
If my eyes are a prism<br />
Then I am looking for space for all this light<br />
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<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-26869491678975745842016-04-27T10:06:00.000+01:002016-04-27T10:06:21.760+01:00..Apne kushi meh sab ko takleef deeya.<br />
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Distorted and bruised , the heart still feels what it feels.<br />
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My safe space is getting smaller and smaller and I've been folding in on myself like dark matter.<br />
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My fingertips are blue because of the cold, because I am tired , because simple living evades me , because there is nowhere to unpackage these dreams. But second skins never shined so bright.<br />
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' They passed right by and never knew'in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-29981579005834353362016-04-24T23:45:00.000+01:002016-04-24T23:45:39.286+01:00GibberishIt's been raining for two and half hours , trust me I'm sure<br />And your freeze frames are piling on top of each other<br />Like bedazzled mountains blinding the peasants<br />Nobody needs to know how it feels to fall into a fissure of time itself<br />Or how the white tiles reflect back words repeated again and again<br />And you're choking on the silence, on the space between understanding<br />Like someone you should recognize<br />From an old poem I gave you a copy of once<br /><br />I finish the paper exactly thirty minutes early<br />the admissions that hit the paper warrant only broken smiles<br />I would've done anything to take the sadness from your eyes that day<br /><br />When I tried to ask the answers came quicker than my question<br />The walls of this box were tighter than I first imagined<br />So I learnt to breathe shallower<br />Then the words came abruptly<br />Like driftwood tossed by the sea<br /><br />My riddles weren't riddles<br />They were tongue tied , suffocating<br />Between reaching something they could not reach<br /><br />Really I'm a coward<br />always afraid of the things I want the most<br /><br />My words hurt me before any one else gets a chance<br /><br />A hodgepodge of untold stories<br />Of narratives that do not match<br /><br />The whole world is one colour<br />And I am another<br /><br />Maybe one day I could bleach the jagged edges to these sentences<br />And forget the watercolour rain<br /><br />There is a price to being free<br />and there's little in me to give<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-83699812121440299912016-04-14T20:45:00.000+01:002016-04-14T20:45:01.817+01:00.It feels like my insincerity is making a noose around my neck.<br />
<br />
This narrative is laughable.<br />
<br />
The light burns inside.<br />
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In the end, my end will be others beginning.<br />
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Grind my bones into dust and a singsong for the children when they sleep.in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-88664311279817298692016-04-14T19:48:00.001+01:002016-04-14T19:48:40.726+01:00MinutesI'm taking time and redefining it to end points I don't share with anyone<br />Because I've found burdens are more often offloaded than dealt with<br />Let me show you the detour every day until we run out of days<br />And I never get round to carrying it too<br /><br />I've compartmentalized destinations into narrow strips of land<br />Where my kingdom collapses in on itself with every resting of this eye<br /><br />They cant find these roots like the statue of a man<br />Knows nothing of whats beneath his feet<br /><br />Help me.in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-63682844256821467112015-12-20T00:24:00.000+00:002015-12-20T00:24:17.764+00:00Laws<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 42.6615px;">Winter tried to strip the trees of sun </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 42.6615px;">Our practicalities become unnecessary realities</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 42.6615px;">Create elaborate labyrinths </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 42.6615px;">Where what is to be or to come </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 44.4087px;">Is a mindset away </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 44.4087px;">Because all it is , is outreached palms</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 45.9375px;">It is cold and the laughter marks an old poem</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 45.9375px;">Made young</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 45.9375px;">False youth , and truths</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 45.9375px;">And all these false appendages </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 46.0467px;">The wild baggage shall fall like leaves</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 46.0467px;">Soon to be free</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Thy Lord bringeth to pass what He willeth and chooseth. They have never any choice. Glorified be Allah and Exalted above all that they associate (with Him)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Surah Qasas</span>in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-67839816851827498912015-12-17T12:23:00.000+00:002015-12-17T12:23:17.591+00:00Impressions <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The storytellers are scribing their lives with the clouds</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strings drawn out , weaved into soft hammocks where only the children sleep </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Calculating probabilities of catastrophe<br />Like mushroom men whose furtherest stretch of reality <br />Are worn knuckles and greyed hands <br /><br />There are lives that try to bypass God <br />Who sit in these fields and stare at the sky <br />The stars shine for all men <br /><br />But the moonlight is mercy </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are nights that shall speak<br />And rains that shall cry<br />And golden portions of time<br />that make clockwork of our lives<br /><br />A decade old request turned into a breath<br /><br />For all , for them , for us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">'What is the matter with you? How do you judge?'<br /><b>Verse 36 Surah Qalam </b></span></span>in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-17521051017062345212015-02-26T22:07:00.000+00:002015-02-26T22:07:09.772+00:00shameShame is where the poem ends empty<br />
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In my time of need , God covered me<br />
When I left all honour behind, God covered me<br />
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Shame is the shrouds beneath which only God sees<br />
Shame is a stagnancy , a rotting<br />
Shame is left lying still<br />
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My eloquent tongue and black heart<br />
My poem ending emptyin the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-41554377553185436572015-02-26T21:45:00.000+00:002015-02-26T21:45:09.470+00:00intermittentI teach myself lessons I once taught<br />
Closed doors and epiphanies when apologies<br />
Too late , always too late<br />
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Maybe goodness will be dispersed<br />
Like flickered light in the periphery<br />
Like something you felt once it was gone<br />
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Nowadays I am heavy with justifications<br />
Such that my heart won't give way<br />
Let me explain what its like in the limbo<br />
Between hypocrisy and disbelief<br />
Between too much and too little<br />
Inside the silence of all the things I ought to say<br />
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I'm so sorry<br />
<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-91342342860877265852015-01-01T23:26:00.000+00:002015-01-01T23:26:47.849+00:00ThrowbackHere is where the metaphors meet at crossroads<br />
Only the well tread may comprehend<br />
Because the rains fall still<br />
Till I stand on a side of the street I do not know<br />
I do not know what it is like to be the green plastic<br />
The simplicity in ends hammered into this pacing<br />
Let me say that glass walls taunt<br />
And that perhaps the mere exclusion could be counted as relief<br />
But we are here counting the shards of glass<br />
And bleeding veins telling one story again and again<br />
But not quite is this light that shines hard<br />
Onto these faulty premises<br />
Wood carved with gaps<br />
Sentences that don't really match up<br />
To a point but to a bigger picture all the same<br />
If somebody could give me peace of mind<br />
That I could be a leaf plummeting<br />
Little time , the presence of the absent<br />
Fills this place with prayers<br />
And the echo of a fear that came true<br />
There is a silence<br />
A held breath<br />
A misplaced intention<br />
Hurt bound in a book<br />
I did not write<br />
<br />
This should not be the place for such sentiments<br />
But this is where the string takes root<br />
The knotted tree<br />
Where this brute honesty<br />
Made the empty auditorium<br />
All that more empty<br />
<br />
It echoes<br />
What an old friend once said<br />
Whose fruits would've come at the end<br />
But I am not thusly blessed<br />
And ends are not ends<br />
Just full circle , hard lives<br />
And mornings where we begin again<br />
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<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-45332202610071711432015-01-01T19:25:00.001+00:002015-01-01T19:25:34.960+00:00Not a poem I want to write on muslim youth musings<br />A little direction and discipline is in order <br />I wander too much<br />And all my wonderings cover the same ground again and again<br />Maybe sow a few seeds of goodness<br />Maybe this uncomfortableness needs roots<br />Maybe home is soil , is earth , is us<br />We are home racing towards home<br />I want to write like the meanings aren't dripping<br />Off the page with each sentence lacking punctuation<br /><br />I want to <i>write</i>in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-73794257627842427972014-12-24T23:07:00.000+00:002014-12-24T23:07:17.505+00:00On Finding a DreamThese are the hectic hands juggling<br />
Coals we must collect without burning<br />
Truth is in this darkness no diamonds shine<br />
And what once was a dream resides in an unopened history<br />
I do not have the heart to read these things once again<br />
<br />
I know now to grab the glass I break<br />
Whether it fits in the crease of my palm<br />
If we bleed , we bleed , we all bleed red<br />
So let my humanity stain every endeavour<br />
May my regret not tear and cool the coals<br />
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May I suffer if it rips my soul from limbs<br />
May I suffer if the sweetness is to teach the heart to want<br />
May I find amongst the shards unwanted dreams<br />
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Let me walk if walking is the only way to find a way<br />
And let my hands touch more coals than the wholehearted-<br />
Could dream to know<br />
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<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-26643337915250170772014-12-11T23:14:00.000+00:002014-12-11T23:15:05.518+00:00Spiritual Limbo IIIImpressions stamped upon the forehead<br />
We cannot escape<br />
Left unstable with these mounting trinkets<br />
Gold plated wood<br />
<br />
The goodness amassed for frail hearts<br />
Reaches no veins and in vain<br />
We wait thinking foundations will not buckle<br />
Under the pressure of the external<br />
<br />
I am not rich<br />
Just a poor soul trying to pay off it's debts<br />
Towards God is the processionin the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-68996855533387248992014-11-16T23:25:00.001+00:002014-11-16T23:25:08.073+00:00RambleCompromise is unutterable , an ugly, heavy word, forming uncomfortably in the small print.<br />
<br />
It was not my intention to write this here , to write this , to write.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Life has always been full circle and never quite straight lines .<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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She told me that ' every soul is continually tasting death' <br />
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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.<br />
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We are so intertwined that it has become our detachment . Our pale faced denial.<br />
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Do you value love and progress and goodness more than vulnerability. Why is it so often a hidden pride masking all our wounds ?<br />
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Dear world, this is where I fell. Do not fall here too. in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-32757662432713292032014-11-08T19:38:00.000+00:002014-11-08T19:38:04.499+00:00NumbTell me where it is supposed to hurt<br />On which wound should my tears sting<br />If all my veins are lined with hypocrisy<br />Maybe I sold my soul too cheap<br />Took a faith as fleeting<br />Can't even pinpoint where<br />Did it all go wrong ?<br /><br />I sit with my old self on rainy days<br />One foot in the grave , a heart filled with dust<br />Of shame<br /><br />Its strange<br /><br />Maybe my mind is fire<br />That my limbs will taste<br /><br />
Perhaps your words made knots in my fate<br /><br />Tell me where do I begin<br />Crave a silence too deep for a body to withstand<br />Bound to that which isn't sacrificed<br />Sacrificed along with that which isn't bound<br /><br />Forgive me for misendeavors<br />The vilified victim , the victimized villain<br />The lines blur to no discernible end<br /><br />
It's strange<br /><br />Tell me something I do not know -<br />But make me understand<br /><br /><br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-62069794452348191392014-08-31T00:52:00.001+01:002014-08-31T00:52:31.332+01:00On Beauty and Weddings IIIBloodlines disperse with belief<br />
These generations are untraceable<br />
Unteachable , unbelievable<br />
I hold my breath when she tells me<br />
<br />
I feel religiosity stuck in our throats<br />
It hurts and we diverge<br />
Like pebbles in the sea<br />
<br />
Ask me about beauty<br />
I would say she runs<br />
Like a glass thread through our hearts<br />
Transparency in being<br />
Sincerity in action <br />
Caught somewhere awkward<br />
Where unsaid truths tick away another hour<br />
<br />
The outcome of our collective childhood<br />
Is bitter sweet tongues and<br />
Distance growing weeds<br />
A half bloom of flowers<br />
that may never see another spring<br />
<br />
I want to sit where the river splits<br />
I want to understand<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Thawban related that the Messenger of Allah said: </span><span class="hadith" style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;">"<b>The nations are about to call each other and set upon you, just as diners set upon food."</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"> It was said: <b>"Will it be because of our small number that day?"</b> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">He said: </span><span class="hadith" style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;"><b>"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."</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"> Someone said: <b>"O Messenger of Allah! What is </b></span><b><em style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">wahn</em><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">?" He said: </span><span class="hadith" style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;">"Love of the world and the hatred for death."</span></b></span>in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-6606720614454950902014-08-13T23:36:00.000+01:002014-08-13T23:36:56.641+01:00AnonymousNameless, faceless pills to stifle the ego<br />
I am not here to kill my lower self<br />
If I nurtute her in darkness perhaps<br />
Then and only then will she seek light<br />
<br />
I should take my hesitations, place them<br />
Under the watching of God<br />
Speechless<br />
Absence is an elixr for the restless<br />
And such sincerity comes into question<br />
If the auditorium was empty<br />
How loud would I speak ?<br />
<br />
So I'm pealing back the layers to the essence<br />
Find the who behind the what<br />
Clarify the why's<br />
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But I am labelled<br />
Easily identified<br />
Discerning eyes swallow my words<br />
<br />
I speak of goodness<br />
Though there is little goodness in me<br />
May God mask the shame of what I've become<br />
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<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-5538502527735384932014-06-29T01:29:00.000+01:002014-06-29T01:29:27.206+01:00Spiritual Limbo III am lost<br />
Wandering<br />
Vague steps towards God<br />
<br />
Associated negativities pile<br />
Hearts in their dying breaths<br />
Plead , can't you find any good<br />
<br />
The world is muffled<br />
There are layers upon layers<br />
Numbing the hurt of living<br />
<br />
Guidance flickers in the distance<br />
What a beautiful religion<br />
Woe to an ugly approach<br />
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There are no homes on this borderline<br />
Just a lonely tight rope<br />
To a garden , they say<br />
But worldly burdens weigh<br />
And words disappear<br />
Into the black canvas of my heartin the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-20255233141246368272014-06-17T12:33:00.001+01:002014-06-17T12:33:51.134+01:00ContinuityAll dirt and no seeds<br />
My mind is a wasteland of thoughts<br />
Trying to find a dream<br />
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Its all in simplicity<br />
One foot after the other<br />
But there are people piling deeds in their sleep<br />
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A fool would sprint a marathon<br />
But these idle feet grow restless<br />
And it isn't about shortcuts<br />
Just reassurance that it'll be enough<br />
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Dreams elude me nowadays<br />
But I'm searching for a deed so pleasing to God<br />
I think when I find it<br />
I won't tell a soul<br />
About the gardens in my heart<br />
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24.375px; text-align: justify;">Reported by ‘Aisha (RA): Allah’s Apostle (peace be upon him) said, <b>“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.”</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24.375px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Bukhari</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 25.600000381469727px;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-family: inherit;">The Messenger (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “<b>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.” </b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 25.600000381469727px;"><span style="color: #93c47d;"> Muslim, 3084. </span><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">“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”</span> </b></span>Saheeh Muslim #2999</span></span><br />
<br />in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543431288080251190.post-86334196203937982122014-06-13T21:14:00.002+01:002014-06-13T21:14:55.601+01:00A GiftBought on whim<br />
It reminded me of you for<br />
All the wrong reasons<br />
Means meet ends behind<br />
A small silver box<br />
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Associations taint our spirits<br />
Sins said with our names<br />
Till we forget the sting of unfamiliarity<br />
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Forgive me but the only gift worth giving<br />
Is taking you by the hand and running<br />
But how limp are our hands<br />
We're packaged in lies<br />
We suffocate<br />
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I'm sending empty parcels to God<br />
Hoping he will fill these void vessels<br />
With lightened chests and a once lost innocence<br />
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #fefdfd;">"<b>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.'"</b> (Qur'an, 83:14)</span><br style="-webkit-box-shadow: none !important; background-color: #fefdfd;" /><span style="background-color: #fefdfd;">(Hadith An-Nasa'i and Al-Tirmidhi)</span></span>in the falling leaveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10774102890025370153noreply@blogger.com1