What It Whispers.

why then?

Some things had been written,

Fate they call it, some sigh

I smile. I really do.

There are those who curse this life

As though the thorns on these roads were a venom that could kill

But it didn't. Anyway it didn't.

There are those who smile when life stabs them

Deep down the heart hurts,

They smile. They know it. Fate they call it too...

A beautified word filled with the rawness of painful and blissful emotions. 

You know love is such a beautiful thing,

But some call it a drug.

I call it fate, one of the roses perhaps on the roads,

Or perhaps love was the only thing that could be called a bed of roses,

That does have thorns below,

We may not see it, but it does exist.

When trudging further,

Something pricks, and you begin to bleed

It pains, aah the heart!

But sometimes pain is pleasure,

Because at least now you know that roses could have thorns too...

No matter how beautiful.

Love is fated...yet this heart has an urge to somersault,

Love right and wrong,

It hurts when you love the wrong person they say,

Nay, it was never about the person

It was about loving for the wrong reasons.

People may say, some love the other for money,

Or the beautified face,

It is perhaps time to shatter the conventions,

For now, you shall know,

That love isn't anything like it,

So may I request humbly to never call it love?

Because to be blunt, you're staining a beautiful term.

And yet there is wrong love,

Which is synonymous to addiction and lust,

The one which runs in the veins, the one which makes you want to die,

The one which doesn't let you sleep in agony

The one which lets your heart bleed mercilessly,

The one which fills your thoughts

And takes you far away from purpose,

The one which makes you want to go far away from right,

Where morals don't matter,

Faith may just curl in the dark cave,

Where you curl up in sadness and only 'he' could light up your world,

Wake up! This is NOT love.

You aren't drugged to feel that way,

Love is when you want to feel the comfort of God

When the other person speaks to you,

Love is when you want to get closer to the One who Loves His slaves immensely,

Love is when your happiness is

 in making them better,

Love is when you hold until the end,

Not run away when you eye the flaws,

It is to accept a sinning soul like you,

That craves to be better for the sake of Him

And NOT you.

The books and movies taught us that Romeo and Juliet had always been right,

That both of them dying was the ultimate solution to humanity,

That their story marks and upholds this beautiful emotion.

What caused the death of one another was foolishness,

The inability to fight for a greater power,

The meekness of two hearts that were lost in lust,

The ones that lent each other's mortal heart to the other,

Because they couldn't simply see beyond the clouds

That seemed too bright, but in reality were filled with darkness.

And you uphold such love that makes you want to die?

Rethink. If Al-Wadood is watching over us,

And the two loving souls are aware of it,

Will they then dare to displease Him?

If Al-Wadood is Saying that He won't hurt his slave,

Then will these two loving souls hurt each other?

If Al-Wadood is asking them to stop hastening towards their feelings

And make it right,

Will they then hasten towards an evil that would scar them forever?

How many a stories of sorrows have you heard?

Where he left her because it simply didn't work out

Or where she left him because she simply couldn't hold it!

How many a times!

Yet we don't learn our lessons!

Let me tell you oh Mu'min and Mu'minah!

Love isn't all about sweet kissed hellos and teary good byes,

It is much more divine than you can perceive,

Which is why He said

That He made you both garments for one another,

And you may seek comfort from each other,

Will you not then understand?

That lust isn't love,

That misery isn't love!

Love is when you realize that indeed He is Al-Wadood.

And he merely is the servant of Al-Wadood.

Which is why you love the other for the sake of Al-Wadood.

And you will. Always. Because nothing could be purer than it,

Nothing could be better than it.