A deeply PERSONAL thinGY stuffs...

Love puts bread on the table,
Love puts the roof over our heads,
Love is the cure to all
Our sorrows and
Heartaches.

Love is perfect,
But we are imperfect,
So we become torn,
Pulled left to right,
Front and back.

Yet,
If man were perfect,
What need would he
Have for love from
Anyone at all?

Imperfection is
The Lord's gift
That compels us
To seek Him...,

That compels us
To seek Each other.

So do not despair,
And say not unto me,
That our Lord
Does not
Care.

And ask not of God,
That HE be contented
With us,
When we are not
Contented with Him...

Oh my Love,...
By my words
I am undone.

Forgive Me.
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From current and untitled chapter
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This is really my first ever 'live' posting. The verse, as in most truths, is related to me in hindsight, from a series of sms-es. The contentment with God portion is however an earlier conversation between the saintly Rabi'ah al-'Adawiyah and Sufyan al-Thawri. It is an old, old tale, but the morale appears to fit in here nicely. Don't you agree?

The truth is, when I speak of love, I shame the word, as I am unworthy. But God has given me eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to feel and hands to write with. And I guess I am meant to share it with you, my pretties. May God, Who has given me all these though I am unworthy, grace your days and nights in sweet solace. For I know that you at least, you are worthy!

Salams.