O My Lord,
I complain to you how sad I feel upon the uncertain.
I complain to you; how sorrowfully I observe them in plain error.
Their eyes open when they hear it.
A child awakens in their eyes. A naive soul seeing the skies.
A soul which has wandered into the dust of sins, and into the light of the fire.
You Yourself have said "this is a Book in which there is no doubt".
Their child-like eyes scream for something to hold on to, but they themselves aren't even certain of that.
They ask why You created evil, but they do not see that there would be no good without any evil.
Just as You have said, my Lord, "it is not their eyes that are blind, but their hearts."
My Lord, who is deserving of all praise, I complain to you!
Change their eyes with the vibrant colors of Your Miracle, so they are saved from the depths of hell.
Lessen the burden on their soul, by gifting them with Islam.
Save the falling of many purposeless tears, and give the droplets the sweet taste of fearing You, before they evaporate.
YOU ARE READING
You Who Knows Best
PoetryThis is a series of love poems written by me. "May we meet where the eye can find its rest, And where our hearts beat for each other, even outside of our breasts."
