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To the Sustainer of My Being

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Ya Allah!







I write and I pollinate paper with my thoughts

Hoping to be held by their roots when death frowns at my finished days

And time calls out no more

I call out to You

Knowing a question needs neither hook nor bait to catch its answer

The same way you whispered life

Into my start

When I knew you not but as the light to my darkness

The existence to my nothingness

The continuance of my end

I surrender to my need for You

From my umbilical dependence

To the subconscious thought behind my final breath

I have tried to understand you through the eyes that You have created

Only to bear witness to the proof of my creation


Each soul communicates to You

Through the strength that You have instilled into them

Amid the debris a child pushes back tears

Soon breaks because even mountains erode in time

But nobody sees the strength behind that silent wait

Nor sees how a mother has knitted her home

From a thousand silken webs of pain

And fed her children hope from a million broken hearts.

What's more beautiful than a smile suspended by a quenched heart?

Contentment sits in the heart just as water sits in a lake

Yet I drown my heart with the world when You have

Created for me a sustainable fountain.


I write because it is the strength you have given me

So I have scattered my being between my letters

Hoping they will find You blindly

I write because my mind hides a tragedy

A burdened cup, full and waiting to spill

The plot is death, tears provide the ink until the heart stops writing.

I yearn for You when my sighs collapse against my breath

But I need You most when my soul collapses against my heart

I light a flame but will soon blow it away knowing life is a candle placed on an empty throne

Gone but will it reclaim the kingdom you have destined it for?

I write quenched by the favours that choke me away from You

I write while being loved

Knowing your love for me is the pinnacle of guidance

While my love for You is the shadow of worship

It grows from within and crosses over to the other

Over an invisible bridge, to sit on the podium of the heart

But what podium am I sincerely worthy of when I love You at my worst

Yet claim to end my letters faithfully?

Author of this article: Taher Adel
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