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Sana Oct 2015
The colors that best define the beauty of colors is black and white; hence the reason my memories are all grey, for they preserve the best of colors of life.
Whilst watching TV in black n white on road trip;  suddenly felt the intensity and depth in images that is generally ignored.
Sana Oct 2015
O’ bewailed seeker of the seeker
Wandering in the corridor of tenet
Yet opening doors as a blind valet
To the master of secular need
That materialistic greed
On your slumping soul it feeds
Won’t you lift the veil from your heart?
For the doors are new yet all the same
To the rooms of silken gold of shame

O’ lamented!
To annihilate this lust and moist your lips
Don’t cup your hand, nor take the sip
“To quench this thirst, be the sea”
Your heart is vessel so sail THIS ship
Cruise the waters; sail wide and strive
Dig the hole deep, drown and rise

O’ grieving self
Now you conserve the flame of “fikr”
You are the sea yet how good is
When contained in self, veiling the bliss?

“To quench your thirst, be the rain”

Sprinkle the leaves and be that trail
Of lush green ivy once livid and pale
Undone the knots and unlock the chains,
For the dust, for the smoke and the fading lights
Aren’t those ones who have most right?

“But to be the rain, must be that vapor”
That gazes at “shams” and let it burn
The glistening surface of its being
Surrenders its berth of cradling sea
And submits its sole to the Highest being

A sage once said Fire and Rain
Are in unison;  are one name
"Shams" is the Arabic word for sun
"Fikr" is Arabic word, the literal translation is to think, to ponder over, however it has a deeper meaning in Arabic that also combines concern with deep thinking and reflecting on a subject.

Rivers of information run through you as your being flows through time, places and people. When you ponder over, connect the particles and let these gushing streams diffuse into your soul is when the rivers become the exalted sea of knowledge, and yet what good is this mighty sea if it’s merely contained in your sole self. Is not existence due to nonexistence? Is not nonexistence immortal existence? How good is your mighty settled sea if it doesn’t propel you to the shore of immortality? Where your oneness ends and the only remnant is oneness of the One. However vain the knowledge if not practiced, but it is in that containment of knowledge the flame of “fikr” can survive, it’s the womb of knowledge that can conserve the flame of “fikr”.
The application of knowledge is submission. It is when the flame of fikr ignites and becomes the celestial sun that consumes your worldly self. It is when you start sacrificing your fortune, your desires, your relations. It is when you start spending your wealth in the way of God, It is when you start spreading and sharing your knowledge for God, It is when you start living in the way of God, it is then that you turn yourself in the blissful rain of love for humanity, it is then that the endless shower of God’s blessings commences on you.
Sana Sep 2015
It always hurts to turn and finish last pages of the book.
Sana Aug 2015
As I lay here
Encapsulated in softness
I close my eyes tenderly
For my dreams are placid
Gossamer, floating wild yet gently
My dreams are the sparkles
My dreams are the ambers
But my dreams are not dreams
My dreams are honeyed streams
Of bliss, of love so pure

I am witness of a miracle
I was born once as mortal clay
Buried deep within, seeds of my dark fate
They said,
“You can change not,
Your fate is forged,
On iron pages it is wrought”
Exclaimed I;
“Does not moisture crack the seeds?
Does not I carry that grows to reed?”

So I marched on barren lands
Wildly searching that could damp
Scared,  a step with each heartbeat
Thorns piercing and bleeding my feet
To heavens I prayed in desperate I cried,
Tears of agony in my eyes
That moment bestowed upon me
Our blood is the water that damps the seeds
The more we bleed, the more we reap

Hence I was reborn amongst sunniest rays
To taste the sweetness in bitterness
To experience the noise in silence
To listen the music in smiles
To see the laughter in eyes

As I drift to sleep now
I will not dream, I can never dream
My reality is too beautiful,
My reality is all I dream

Until that day when,
My reality becomes only a dream,
When my lids would turn stones
And the blood in me runs dry
Till that last day,
I will use my blood
To moist my seeds of fate
Dedicated to each one of us who struggled through their dark fate, who rebelled against failure
Sana Jul 2015
Sacrifice of desires, sacrifice of wealth, sacrifice of social status, sacrifice of relations, sacrifice of inanimate belongings, Would the sacrifice be sacrifice to become of God?
And your mind wanders and fetches bits of pain you felt when you made that one small sacrifice and answers "Yes" if sacrifice is pain, there would be pain to become of God.
Your soul replies, "To bear that pain you need to experience pain, to experience pain, you need to sacrifice. Pain births the strongest. Be of pain, be of God"
Choose the road of cobble stones, and you would walk alone.
Choose the road of thorns to reach God,
You would walk with God.
Sana Jul 2015
Some people are of God,
The thinning of their sole, torn shoes and worn clothes tell the tale only hearts of God hear. How blessed, for their treasure lies within, no fear of loss, no fear of pain because the glacier of faith they carry within is too magnificent to be beautified, yet too fearsome to let any fear linger around the edges.
Everyone of us is a keeper of that glacier. It's only, that the burns sometimes melt the forted edges of  iceberg of faith. But the keeper knows exactly when it happens, and when it can happen. And do we not sometimes melt and do we not always gather our blistering crystals, do we not bear the burns on our palms and yet we stand strongest after the burning waves of fate pass on? It melts, it smoothes, it shapes and after all the carvings in the keeper's castle, makes him even more majestic.
Sana Apr 2015
Tis not my mind
Nor my heart
Tis not my word
Nor my speech
These rhythmic impulses
Striking gently against my nerves
And dripping...
These droplets of harmony  
Absorbed; on the pages of time
This verse or perhaps a tune
This theme or perhaps a symphony
To be sung or perhaps unsung
To be heard or perhaps unheard
Yet splashed and imprinted
On the score of a lovers heart
I be the lover; Him be my beloved
As I looked up to the heavens
And drank the pouring rain
Cascaded down from my beloved's abode
To soak and fill the cracks of my imagination

And you my friend!
A passersby;
In quest of your beloved's song
But when your beloved sings not,
To hear your silver chimes
Hear once and hear again
How the tumult ends
Rewarded or unrewarded
Never you are empty handed
Hence leave your instrument of doubt hither
On your stage of tenet
But seek and return; again
And see with each return
How your orchestra rises, how it plays
How you hear and how you sway
For then, you'll be the lover
But only He will be your beloved
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