O Sacred friend,
I called ninety-nine times and one.
And in every call, I love the more
For in the calling,
I die of my old self to live anew.

©By Abdulmalik Jibril

It is not in your beauty that I found love;
It is in your love that I see beauty.

Why have you made the nights your cloaks when the ground is better a comfort?
Weeping for what has left you for what is to stay to come.
Do you not see that dusk comes before dawn?
Why then do you trouble your heart?

You've flooded the Holy grounds with your tears and awoken the nights with your cries and fears, Seeking God.
Yet the ground on which you stand have refused to crumble but you do not care.
You've used too much words. Have you not seen now that it is not quantity, but quality that heavens first hear?

Is he who has made his desire his god same as he who has made God his desire?
Strip yourself off wants and put on contentment attire
Walk with faith and marvel at what you will acquire

I know you have stained yourself again. But come, this river does not run out of flow.
Wash yourself. It is not of ours to judge. Wash yourself till you become one with the river.
Drink from it and be pure of soul.
Drink till you get drunk in His Mercy

©By JIBRIL ABDULMALIK

Maybe,
If we could look through
What claims to be light,
We will see the darkness that rests behind.

Maybe,
If we could look beyond
what is said to be darkness,
We will see the light.
Trapped, just like you and me
— scared of the dark.

Maybe.
Just maybe

©BY ABDULMALIK JIBRIL

Maybe,
If we could look through
What claims to be light,
We will see the darkness that rests behind.

Maybe,
If we could look beyond
what is said to be darkness,
We will see the light.
Trapped, just like you and me
— scared of the dark.

Maybe.
Just maybe

©JIBRIL ABDULMALIK

This is Malika:
A queen, whose jingling beads charm kings to stoop,
And beauty intoxicates men to stupor.
That even men of muse ponder upon her mute
And how her smile drives the clouds and her voice calms the winds.

The star that does not leave my sky,
even in the darkest of nights.
With brilliancy like that of the rising sun;
Whose ray of love has blurred my vision:
All I see is beauty upon beauty and light upon light.

The peacock of birds who walks in beauty and humility
That no eyes can see, but mine.
A cure for the soul that brings the heart to its senses.

This is my Malika and I am her Malik.

©By Abdulmalik Jibril

In your words,
I find cure.
By your look,
My soul enlivens.
O You Who dwells in my hearts.