The Door of My Soul
We do not question God,
We question ourselves,
Raising awkward inquiries
And intimate questions
Bound to raise the blushes
Of the most hardened rake
Amongst us.
We do not question God,
But put ourselves through
The grinding windmill
Of our own complexity
And confusion.
We do this,
Time and again,
Until finally, tired and worn,
We reply,
"Enough! I cannot answer thy questions anymore,
Cast thy impertinent interrogation on the Door of my Soul,
And see now Hu will answer thee!"
...............................
I am away from the city, in the hill-side of Janda Baik (literally, The Good Widow), a rural hill village in the state of Pahang, about one hour from my home. I am here with my friend, Moses, taking a break from the city-scape for some green jungle and cool evening breeze. It is in fact very cold here now, because as the sun came down, a torrential downpour also arrive to soak this quiet little retreat.
Moses agreed to follow, which is fortunate, because we are the only paying customers in this little guest house. Apart from us there are only two or three resident staff staying here. I also brought along Imam Ghazali for company, in his slim volume entitled The Alchemy of Happiness. Am I searching for happiness? I am, just like everyone else. And I have a sneaky feeling that my happiness is in finding out who is behind the Door of my Soul.
Oh dear, the rain is starting again. I better go dry up. God bless you and have a wonderful day.
Take care, sunshine.
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way
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