I am afraid.
Afraid of losing ;
losing those dear to me, losing myself, losing what I've yet to gain.
But how can I lose what I've never had?
I get so frustrated because I can't stop time.
I can't fix everything.
I'm not even anywhere close to being healed.
I want to heal others.
My loved ones deserve to live.
We deserve to be happy.
What did we do to bring about such pain, such sickness?
Why are we plagued so?
I'm always asking "Why?"
Why?
Please let us live.
I'm tired of hurting.

I will rise from  the ash
Spreading my wings
As sun hits me
The ash fallen down
Leaving  the pain
The past mistakes
The negative that held me
The sadness tore me apart
Alll falls down
Shedding
As it mix in with ash
I am the phonix
Time to rise above

By Kenny Diamond

She's in a constant state of comfort, pure bliss
Knowing she wouldn't be pricked by a thorn,
If it wasn't for the smell of rizq colouring His roses

She's in a constant state of purity
As His clouds turn into heavy storms above her head
Gently rinsing away the bad, returning her only for the good

She's in a constant state of obedience,
As gratefully awake she is
Her eyes let go of tears with utmost ease
Honoured, they fall and sink into the lowest of grounds
Only to join His droplets of rain, humble, in their firmest sujood

We don't like keeping in the dark
Thus, we sleep at nighttime
Only when the brightness of the sun kisses our lands, we wake up

Like flowers, turning towards the sun
In order to grow

It's almost as if we're eager to forget that seeds grow healthy long before they're greeted by the sun
It's almost as if we're eager to forget that we're always in need of darkness in each of our lives

Flowers absorb their nutrition out of the dark, like humans, only to grow stronger

Thus, we sleep at nighttime
Only to run towards His light as soon as possible

Like an autumn tree
Let us absorb reality
Starting at the roots
Until our branches rain mastery

Reflect upon us like the sun does
Enlighten my trunk, my fiber
Sweeten the fruits of my leaves
Only to match the touch of saffron soil

To grow green, silk & brocade, I pray
Ending fall season, turned into gold, I supplicate
Naggingly I ask You, ٱلْمُعِزُّ
Gather this four-season-Ummah with just one breeze