Dear God,

My condition is apparent to you.
Indeed you see what we conceal and what we reveal.
Forgive me and grant me an eternity in paradise.
An eternity I come nowhere near earning even if I had lived a thousand life times of righteousness.
How could I ever worship you enough, and you are the most glorified?
Have mercy on me and shower me with blessings in this life in the next,
Give me the khair of this life and the next.
Make me among your favoured slaves,
Love  me and increase me love for you,
Make me of those who have tawakil in your will,
Those who have taqwa and excel in patience.
Make me of those who are thankful and whose tongues are always wet from dhikr.
Make me a moon among the stars,
Of those who are honoured in the hereafter.
Make my grave comfortable and lofty and give me my good deeds as companionship.
Give me many righteous children who go out in the way of Allah,
And  make them a source of sadiqah jariyah.
Make me a weapon of the believers and your sword against the rebellious.
Of those who free the prisoners and reject injustice. 
Make me sincere and accept my repentance. Make hell fire harram for me and my family.
Above all, make me die in the state of Islam.
Ameen.

Best Lesson I've Ever Learned

Bite your tongue
And wait.

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run? 

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

-Robert Frost 

Writers block induced by Misery

Misery is not in the mood for poetry.
It does not wish to put on the pretense of pretty.
Nor the civility of wisdom.
Misery wants to spread its poison on to all living things for indeed it loves company.
It wants to insult you and berate you.
It wants to seek out your sacred places and desecrate them.
Misery loves that you succumb to despair.
That you relish and revel in it.
...