Look!
Judge ye not my home
By the measure of my little room,
Nor the smallness of my hearth
And kitchen where I cook,
For my true abode is my heart,
And therein beats the name
Of Ahad and Ahmad,
Do not judge, but look! Look!
Judge ye not my grave
By the measure of its length and width,
For my final abode is built
With the love from my Lord,
And it is finer than any house
Mortal hands may wrought,
Do not judge, but look! Look!
...................
Build your home, but do not be tied to it. Build your home, but do not make it a prison. For your house, your apartment, your flat, your bed-sit is nothing but a temporary place for you. At best it is the highway motel of the human spirit. So look for companions that will aid you in your journey and speed you towards the Divine Presence. And travel as light as you can.
Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. I have always said that writing a poem is like composing a song. It is not about arranging as much words and smart sentences as we can, but what to leave out. So short and simple is always nice. God bless you always...
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way
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