What would I have carried If You had seized the disloyal beats Of my ungrateful heart? What If You had stopped the breaths Inhaled which the heights Awing the beauty of world, Yet neglected Your commands!
Oh! What it brought all along Save the wavering faith, Which at every fall and pain Cursed the fate; Your tests I questioned, Never looking at the blessings Unasked which You bestowed; Now pardon my all doings, When I long for Your domains.
I am flawed but a lover Can I be called so? When imperfections are all I am made of, I have no deed of goodness, How shall I not fear to die And to stand before you? Surely you will forgive But how shall I claim then That I am a lover of Yours?
~Bury to blossom~ There are happenings, there are setbacks at every step of life and this is what makes it life in duniya. The point is we do not have to remain trampled and shattered for rest of our lives. These are times when we are to rise stronger. As says Maulana Rumi " When the world pushes you to your knees, you're in the perfect position to pray" We complain of pain, of being deceived, of falling apart but then isn't it what makes our way back to Him! . . #writersnetwork#pod@writersnetwork#readwriteunite@writerstolli@mirakee @sayim_m i owe you everything i know @umer__ dedicated to you. I still remember that lecture of seed
What should I write About this night: the beauty it holds; The night of his assent has it been, The union of the lover and Beloved; Written, sung and spoken about Endlessly by the believers, Still words fail to be sufficient To express sanctity of this union!
What should I write then Are there any expressions left? Time and Life came to standstill, Once he stepped outside it, In honour of their union.
The veils were drawn apart, Two bow-lengths, or less, remaining, After Jibraeel sought leave, "Sidratul Muntaha" being demarcation, From the beholder of every adjective; Settled was he for nothing less For being Lover supreme of all lovers.
On remembering such night again, I, a longing lover, call upon you; Will you not come then, To Illuminate the dark round me, Eternally, and for rest of nights to come?
What should I write then In praise of this sacred Love! What is love but this, A submission, of whole to Him, That lifts a lover to heavens.
What should I write of the Beloved: Modesty incarnated is his being, A being supreme of all created; Most intimate he is to the Noor, Whose spark crushed parts of Toor.
It is the night of my beloved; The world is down in prayers, In praises of his essence; My heart, too, bursts in joy, To seek and find him I should also bow and pray a little.