My raison d’etre is you

To serve you

You require nothing from me, for how could you, when you are The Sustainer, The Supreme Bestower?

When you are the Lord of Power, whose dominion is clear from imperfection?

I must be mad, for how hard should it be to do the good that you have ordained, to do right by you, for you, for me, for my soul?

You only ask this of me, how hard should it be to make those sunnah prayers, for my own palace in your gardens, my own, next to you?

How hard should it be to be patient?

Ya Jabbar, Ya Fattah, this far you’ve  brought me

I marvel at my fortune

When I was done and out, and hopelessly depressed

And when I was shattered and broken, you healed me

And when further griefs claimed me, you lifted me

When I doubted myself, you gave me hope

When I transgressed against my soul, you guided me out

And when I created mischief and harmed your creation, you breached these divisions so beautifully

How beautifully you honour me.

Ya Aziz, how could I think that I would ever flourish, exist for even a second of my life without you?

When you know all that my soul whispers

To think, to breathe, without you?

How could I, when you’re closer to me than my jugular vein?

What would I do without you, my love, without your hope?

And what do you think of me?

Do you love me?

I could never fathom that the answer would be nay, and if ever you considered it, please guide me back swiftly to do what you love, and keep me firm on that path that you love, with the people that you love

Keep me firm until we meet again on that most fateful day, in your house, before your throne, firm in love, hope and fear

And please, my love, please never take my soul when you’re displeased with it

I beg of you, please never take it then, for what would be my fate if my soul is dead before I’m dead?

Ya Razzaq, your provisions humble me

I’m shy at asking you sometimes, yet I know you want to be asked

For whom else would I ask?

Your creation, who hate to be asked? Who turn away from you, who sin against you?

Isn’t that a tragic peculiarity, the greatest paradox, that I would ask from them, who hate to be asked, and shy away from asking you, when you request to be asked? When you so love it? Isn’t it, Your Highness, Your Majesty?

Forgive me my Lord, I submit to you

In totality my Lord, I worship you.

My beloved, keep me with you always

And strengthen me to come closer to you through the actions that you love

And be like those women whom you’ve admitted to your gardens of bliss

Whom you praise in your Book

And how could I ever be lax in my worship of you, when I have the blueprints to success?!

How could I mistreat your creation, and then remorselessly ask of your protection?!

How could I then claim that I’m deserving of your love and mercy?!

And my Lord, how wondrous is it that I still possess the will to come back to you, to ask for pardon, only to repeat the same thing again?

How absolutely fortunate I am that your mercy transcends anything I could ever imagine!

And my worries, and prayers, my Lord, how could you ever not get tired of me?

That I worry about a future I don’t know if I’m a part of

And a past whose absolution and pardon I constantly ask of

Do I not think that you will forgive me the injustices I have perpetrated?

How hopeless would that be!

My lord, what nonsense I spout, have I ever known the purity of despair?

Even in the depths of sadness, I always knew that I had you

How could I, when I once begged for the things that I take for granted now!

When I could only imagine the life that I live now!

And that I want more? What wretched mordancy!

Help me, my Lord, help me live in the moment, forget a past that has gone, and abandon a future that I’m not guaranteed

Help me always be grateful, present, thoughtful, in your remembrance

Help me sufficiently adore you my Lord, because I fail at this

Help me sufficiently glorify you, because I founder at this.

And how fleeting my time is

Sometimes I wish that you would silence all clocks, silence all sound

Clear out this world of all your creatures, except me, to worship you in silence, without distraction

Yet isn’t this why you created me, to do this, despite all of this?

I’m anxious, the clocks keep ticking

My life, an upturned sand timer

And every moment that passes is a moment that I have lost to sufficiently praise you, a moment that brings me closer to my reckoning

And that I dread it, would that you would change my state, my Lord!

To desire it, to meet my dearest father, and my grandparents, and to see you

Would that you would turn my heart to look so forward to it!

Increase my ardour for it, would that you would help me violently want it!

Is my history a rehearsal of what I’m going through now?

My love of wealth and status?

And my desire to be independent? And independent of what, my Lord? Independent of whom?

And how could I ever wish to be independent of you my Lord, when my existence I owe you?

It seems as if everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed

I’m a sham, and my love is a sham

My beloved, I stand defeated, humbled, bowed

In exultation of your magnificence, your night, your grace, your mercy

And whatever broken, tainted, inadequate love I have to give, my Lord, you have it

And all I pray from you is that you would spare just a little bit of your love, your mercy, your grace, your kindness when you meet me

But I cannot deceive you, I’m greedy and you know that I want more than a little, I hope that you’ll spare all of your mercy, because I need it

And I hope that you’ll remember that I tried, and I pray that as I leave this most temporary abode, I leave in that state, steadfastly trying to please you, always you

In hope and fear of our reunion

Until then, I remain in awe of you

Striving to dive deeper into my love for you

Always you, my Lord, no one else but you.