with your eyes fixed on fire, on skies that never blink. You’ve memorized verses, but forgotten how to think.
You search the wind for commands, while hearts beat beside you, unheard. You shout the name of God but miss Him in a stranger’s word.
Look down, brother. No-“ - look around. See the dust, the children, the cracks in the ground. That’s where truth spills, quiet as rain. That’s where faith lives not in thunder, but in pain.
There’s no ladder to climb, no sky to ascend. The divine is not distant He’s the hand of a friend.
So loosen your grip. Unfold your fists. The kingdom you seek already exists.
This piece is a gentle plea to those who seek the divine only in the skies, forgetting that the sacred often lives in the eyes, hands, and hearts of the people around us. True spirituality is not escape, it is presence.