"beneficent" poems
White folks: pack your bags and go.
Our nut-brown world is quite offended.
Make your shame-faced exit NOW,
And leave your mansions unattended.
Wait—before you pass the doors,
It's time to settle ethnic scores.
No more ragtime Minstrel Show.
Our Moorish Science took it down.
Black lives matter. White, less so—
Now move your pale face out of town . . .
But first, shell out for racial shame
Caucasian losers of the game.
Cultural pride is ours alone:
Kings and Egyptian queens we were.
The glories of our race, well-known
Bedazzle in a darkened blur
(Clear to Africa's descendants—
Puzzling to you white dependents).
Blackness lent your world its light,
Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers.
Scandinavia grew bright
Under our beneficent powers.
Negroes gave your blondes their beauty;
Helped those Norsemen shake their *****
The Seven Wonders of the world:
We built them all. No vain conjecture
Dims our banner, black, unfurled,
Above eternal architecture.
Arts and knowledge gained from us
Are what we threaten to discuss.
We invented math and science
Which you robbed from Timbuktu.
Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance
Caused Old Europe to renew.
All our treasure that you plundered
Testifies: your days are numbered.
Classics of our Greeks you stole:
Philosophy was never yours.
Shame upon your racist soul;
For Bach and Mozart both were Moors.
Misappropriated treasures
call for ruthless hard-line measures.
Latino fate falls next—but, where ?
Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ?
Orientals everywhere:
Choose your side and join the fight.
Blackness rising! Late the hour;
Heed your call to fight the power.
Crackers need to check your race—
Stop rooting for that ****** clown.
Rednecks all up in our face;
Racist throwbacks got us down.
But as your statues bite the dust
Your light goes dark (you know it must).
So move on out, oppressor, thief.
Long have you held our nation back.
In some white galaxy seek relief—
But here the light itself is black.
Stars are racist. So is the sun.
Now let God's great black will be done.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
“Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds,
The Beneficent, the Merciful.
Owner of the Day of Judgement,
Thee (alone) we worship;
Thee (alone) we ask for help.
Show us the straight path,
The path of those whom Thou hast favoured.
Not (the path) of those who earn Thine anger
Nor of those who go astray.”
This we said to you, oh Great One, in the Quran
So many years ago.
But Lord your flocks are fleeing from your fields.
We need your Sheepdog to round them up in their confusion.
They do not see you are a God of many names,
“God” being one of them.
Over the ages you have been Zeus, Jupiter, Odin, Mother Earth, Jehovah, God, Allah
And many others.
But always you were The One True One,
Beneficent and Loving.
All men (and women) are equal in your eyes.
All Life to be cherished and preserved.
Thou shalt not ****
Is what you said.
So Allah now’s the time
To correct your children:
Breathe into them
The essence of your thoughts.
Enter their minds as The Holy Ghost,
So many Scrooges there:
Enlighten them
To know what is really Good
And rediscover what it is
To Love.
Amen.
Paul Butters
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
I thank You Allah
I praised to you Allah
I am bowing down to you Allah
For this light to my fore
And the Iman in my heart
And the trust on my tongue
And the health to my life
And the chance to witness
This beautiful time of beneficent
And mercy to the mankind...
And the month of nine
It's a Ramadan, The Great
Ramadan Yajma'ana
Ramadan Kareem
🌙
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 1:38 AM UTC
A Rock there is whose homely front
The passing traveller slights;
Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps,
Like stars, at various heights;
And one coy Primrose to that Rock
The vernal breeze invites.
What hideous warfare hath been waged,
What kingdoms overthrown,
Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft
And marked it for my own;
A lasting link in Nature’s chain
From highest heaven let down!
The flowers, still faithful to the stems,
Their fellowship renew;
The stems are faithful to the root,
That worketh out of view;
And to the rock the root adheres
In every fibre true.
Close clings to earth the living rock,
Though threatening still to fall:
The earth is constant to her sphere;
And God upholds them all:
So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads
Her annual funeral.
* * * * * *
Here closed the meditative strain;
But air breathed soft that day,
The hoary mountain-heights were cheered,
The sunny vale looked gay;
And to the Primrose of the Rock
I gave this after-lay.
I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers,
Like Thee, in field and grove
Revive unenvied;—mightier far,
Than tremblings that reprove
Our vernal tendencies to hope,
Is God’s redeeming love;
That love which changed-for wan disease,
For sorrow that had bent
O’er hopeless dust, for withered age—
Their moral element,
And turned the thistles of a curse
To types beneficent.
Sin-blighted though we are, we too,
The reasoning Sons of Men,
From one oblivious winter called
Shall rise, and breathe again;
And in eternal summer lose
Our threescore years and ten.
To humbleness of heart descends
This prescience from on high,
The faith that elevates the just,
Before and when they die;
And makes each soul a separate heaven
A court for Deity.
5.4k
In the Name of Allah the Magnificent the Beneficent, Allah you show me much of You're Gratitude, my prayer are never sufficent.
Allah my heart and soul pleads for Your Grace, my life has turned for the worse please have Mercy on my soul and all my sins erase.
Deep in the valley in the darkness of life, so difficult to find an exit that would lead me out of this strife.
I supplicate, my soul cries searching for guidance, so deep in this worldly life while crawly out of subsidence.
Reconciling and searching for the better things You offer, forgiveness in my vocal cord is stifled, my soul suffer.
Allah, Your Greatness is so sound Your Creation is so perfect in Your way, my Lord hear my prayer don't let me go astray.
The rain You bring upon us fulfills the rich supplement of life for mandkind, the lost gratitude and praises we leave so behind.
Forgive me Allah of my pass and coming sins, I beg for Your Compassion from now and till my new life begins.
Cleans my heart and soul, with Your Heavenly Grace make me as white as snow, forgiveness is the best that I know.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 2:00 AM UTC
1575
The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings—
Like fallow Article—
And not a song pervade his Lips—
Or none perceptible.
His small Umbrella quaintly halved
Describing in the Air
An Arc alike inscrutable
Elate Philosopher.
Deputed from what Firmament—
Of what Astute Abode—
Empowered with what Malignity
Auspiciously withheld—
To his adroit Creator
Acribe no less the praise—
Beneficent, believe me,
His Eccentricities—
4k
When the night is here ,and all the eyes are asleep
Mine refuse to close,I crave to taste your meeting
I lose myself and regret my sins
My spirit starts to mingle in faith
My soul states Allah's super vision
His miracles , His super power and holy pure love
I yearn for that special corner
which gets perfumed by my sincere tears
Yet,I yearn for it with extreme heartiness
I start yelling to His majesty ,
expressing my situations well aware that He know more than I actually do !
Keenest in my heart! I do feel His mercy
In that corner , I feel my faith's warmth
and I feel your closeness for that you're closer that the vein !
And when I gather my feelings with sacred rain
and perfume my mouth with your holy presence fragrance
I get overwhelmed with the deepest purest emotions of relaxing !
and my heart is wondering and regretting ! "how much I lost from my life like this night ! "
In your presence , Time passes sweeter than honey and prettier than roses !!
Than my tears start pouring like rains ,mixed with regret salt and happiness sugar of such moments !!
A sudden shadow sends me arrows of pain and roses of hope !
I start calling upon you with a shaking heart !
Oh my LORD ! I came with regret! I'm repenting to you !
Forgive me my lord ! I seek your mercy !
I have no one but you ! I run from you towards you !
whenever I remember a sin that I've committed !I get burned with the deepest shame and vexation !
i get melted ,I kneel and bite my fingers' nails from regret and sorrows ...
Ya Allah , you are the most beneficent , the most merciful !
please ,hear my call ,guide me to the straight path and forgive me for I'm a week slave of yours :")
Forgive me ...
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Poems, the consciousness of minutes
Plucked like corn from the ear
Of language,
Between the here and now
Of echoes reflection,
A door to everywhere and nowhere
At the desk,
An escape from the peoples,
From the abyss that fills,
From the sulfuric melancholy
Where unconquerable ruins
Lay at the foot of memory
Armed with an assault of words.
The beneficent metaphorical
Divinities of the moments we
Connect like spinning webs,
You, me, him, her,
They, poets and every one else.
We compact time ripping off
The facelessness of vanities,
Provokers of thought,
Erupting the sensitivity and
Stirring the pit of emotion.
Every poet must know a lover
To cut the cord from the ink
And commit to the experience
Of the realised, words become
What we have done.
Nouns, pronouns, adjectives, these things
Are tools to the inner soul,
We become prophetic and speak
The Fallen,
We know the children of dust
And ignite the realised poem
In each of them,
This is how poetry exists,
How philosophy exists,
And love,
And even hate.
And if these things don't exist,
Then I do not exist,
Neither do you.
Somewhere in the darkness
A prisoner of words begins
Writing the light brighter
than any under the sun.
The first of first, her hair in the
Motion as she flicks slender finger
With her eyes gushing in a half
Smile, the music on the radio,
The memory of Mother, everything,
Everywhere, poetry is life,
It writes itself!
And here in this decalogue,
Every love survives,
Every pain manifest,
Streaking in the heart the
Blood races to the fingers and
Bleeds words to paper.
Every poem is a sacrifice,
Time, energy, pieces
Of you, pieces of I
Scattered in the penumbra,
We become as crystalline structures,
Transparent translation of the
Spirit that burns.
Every man and woman
Writes the experience,
Life and its unique constellation
Of emotions, enormously
We must write the world,
The poem is real,
The images speaks itself.
Poetry is life,
Deserve your poem.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
#*t
h
e
r
i
v
e
r
s
of
our
sadness
can open up
into wide gulfs
of endless delight
and are oftentimes
the beneficent courses
needed to carry us there*#
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
How many million galaxies there are
Who knows? and each has countless stars in it,
And each rolls through eternities afar
Beneath the threshold of the Infinite.
How is it that will all that space to roam
I should have found this mote that spins and leaps
In what unutterable sunlight, foam
Of what unfathomable starry deeps
Who knows!? And how this thousand million souls
And half a thousand million souls of earth
That swarm, all bound for unimagined goals,
All pioneers of death enrolled at birth,
How were they swept away before my sight,
That I might stand upon the single *****
Of infinite space and time as infinite,
Who knows? Yet here I stand, climacteric,
Having found you. Was it by fall of chance?
Then what a stake against what odds I have won!
Was it determined in God's ordinance?
Then wondrous love and pity for His son!
Or was it part of an eternal law?
Then how ineffably beneficent!
Each thought excites an ecstasy of awe,
A rapture rending the mind's firmament.
Infinity -yet you and I have met.
Eternity -yet hand in hand we run.
All odds that I should lose you or forget,
But, soul and spirit and body, we are one.
Is this the child of Chance, or Law, or Will?
Is None or All or One to thank for this?
It will not matter if thanksgiving fill
The endless empyrean with a kiss.
1.9k
Duke said,
“People pray in many different languages
and God hears them all.”
I’m equally a Jew and Muslim,
both living in perfect peace within me.
I’m a little bit Baptist and a little bit Episcopal.
I yearn to swim in the living waters,
and hunger for the cup and bread.
I’m more of a Quaker then a Buddhist.
Only because I’m American and I can’t speak good Chinese yet.
But Buddha’s Lamp is my constant companion,
illumining my every step in this dark world.
I’m also equally composed of east and west Indies
and sometimes even druid.
The Great Spirit and Tantric arts
remain mysteries to me.
I only know them by feeling.
And yes our Afro Heritage.
The drums, the whistle, the dance,
synchronizes our heart beat
to The Beneficent One’s finger taps.
Yes we celebrate The Holy Spirit
with cymbal, voice and drum.
I am a full dues paying member
to the 2nd Hoboken Chapter
of the Unitarian Universal Catholic Church Respectively.
We meet down the block from Sinatra’s Synagogue.
We are all apostles and responsible
for our small spaces that we rent here on earth.
I know I’m 100% Zoroastrian.
I am mesmerized by the fire.
My heart aches for the light.
I tend tiny candles
and listen for the lonely fire
of Coltrane’s sax.
I’m a nun and
a Thelonious Monk.
We run an inn for weary and lost travelers.
We build hospitals to cure the infirm;
and schools to teach the golden rule of love.
We try to do things differently.
Dizzy practiced the Behai faith.
“OOM BOP SHE BAM” I pray.
Music Selection:
Dizzy Gillespie,
Swing Low Sweet Cadillac
jbm
Oakland
12/26/98
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
Partly to verify an era,
partly also to pass the time,
last night I picked up a collection
of Ptolemaic epigrams to read.
The plentiful praises and flatteries
for everyone are similar. They are all brilliant,
glorious, mighty, beneficent;
each of their enterprises the wisest.
If you talk of the women of that breed, they too,
all the Berenices and Cleopatras are admirable.
When I had managed to verify the era
I would have put the book away, had not a small
and insignificant mention of king Caesarion
immediately attracted my attention.....
Behold, you came with your vague
charm. In history only a few
lines are found about you,
and so I molded you more freely in my mind.
I molded you handsome and sentimental.
My art gives to your face
a dreamy compassionate beauty.
And so fully did I envision you,
that late last night, as my lamp
was going out -- I let go out on purpose --
I fancied that you entered my room,
it seemed that you stood before me; as you might have been
in vanquished Alexandria,
pale and tired, idealistic in your sorrow,
still hoping that they would pity you,
the wicked -- who whispered "Too many Caesars."
1.8k
Can we talk?
I'm new to town
and I'm certain that you and I
have not yet met.
Are you a stranger too?
It's rather soon to say
but I caught a beacon in your eyes
(or maybe hoped I did) -
wanting down those
Frosted walls of unfamiliarity.
Who knows what tales
we soon may say
of overlapping circles
of shared community -
of parallel victory and loss.
It's so soon to say,
but for now, accept this hand
as a token of mutual membership
in Pangaea's beneficent sanctuary.
Can we talk?
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Looking for an exit in life, perhaps other option that is rarely available. Time travel, utilitarian way to modify the past and the future.
Trapped in a matrix of flesh and bones controlled by my encephalon, it controls every part of my daily life, from breathing and blinking to helping myself memorize.
A feeling of antipathy in life that could never bring me happiness.
The inculpation for the misapprehension in my past relationship and future.
What does a man like me to do? How can one display their philia when they're not certain of that emotion?
My endurance in this life is on a perpetual edge. I perceive with attention toward happiness.
A deprivation I share with others. An absent of happiness.
A happiness of dominance; a switch that is only controlled.
Today he can be happy; switch ON. Next week he can be unhappy; switch OFF.
I walk on egg shells in this relationship and have to be careful that it won't break. I'm sad and lonely, this is what I get and deserve.
God nor I could change this, but I don't see it happening during my remaining life.
Stifles with silence deploying infantile plots. A day at a time I enunciate as my composer easily is un-maintain.
Hidden arcanum among a number of these unidentified entities lashes out at me discreetly.
Posing no threat I conceal the pass deep in the abyss in an unmarked grave sealing off the hippocampus that only the Creator can breach.
Unannounced the gravestone is turned my past is breached which I assumed that only the Beneficent can release.
Once an inhabitation, but no longer my domicile. Set aside and noted as a lost monument.
Ascendency barbarous with words of articulation fatal to ones self esteem, grossly spoken enslaved. An inclination to the predisposition of my life.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 5:46 AM UTC
'As like the Woman as you can'--
(Thus the New Adam was beguiled)--
'So shall you touch the Perfect Man'--
(God in the Garden heard and smiled).
'Your father perished with his day:
'A clot of passions fierce and blind,
'He fought, he hacked, he crushed his way:
'Your muscles, Child, must be of mind.
'The Brute that lurks and irks within,
'How, till you have him gagged and bound,
'Escape the foullest form of Sin?'
(God in the Garden laughed and frowned).
'So vile, so rank, the ******* mood
'In which the race is bid to be,
'It wrecks the Rarer Womanhood:
'Live, therefore, you, for Purity!
'Take for your mate no gallant croup,
'No girl all grace and natural will:
'To work her mission were to stoop,
'Maybe to lapse, from Well to Ill.
'Choose one of whom your grosser make'--
(God in the Garden laughed outright)--
'The true refining touch may take,
'Till both attain to Life's last height.
'There, equal, purged of soul and sense.
'Beneficent, high-thinking, just,
'Beyond the appeal of Violence,
'Incapable of common Lust,
'In mental Marriage still prevail'--
(God in the Garden hid His face)--
'Till you achieve that Female-Male
'In Which shall culminate the race.'
1.4k
At last He is the pivot of my vision
For whom; you have become an example
O’ My Mother!
For whom; Toor was decorated as stage
For whom; there is no use of sleep and or tiresome
For whom; who have power of control of universe
And who is most Merciful and Beneficent
Who! exists before and after the time
His Honor of love that you are selected
As your motherly feelings and you are matchless in the world
I have listened to a call of Unseen Eternal Voice
“I used to love my human not less than seventy mothers”
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
O God,
The most beneficent and merciful,
Heal my scars,
Erase all my pain,
And clean my heart,
I may have sinned,
But I now feel it,
As it gets me abyss,
I feel my soul being ruptured from the inside,
I feel the wrongs i've done,
Its so excruciating,
My body seems to paralyze,
The moment I fall on my knees,
Asking for forgiveness.
I have sinned and gone astray,
From the charismatic path that leads to you,
The devil that now feeds on my soul,
It needs to go away,
As I am no more allowing it to prey on my soul.
This evil wipes all the sanity,
Leaving behind only tragedy,
Forgive me O lord,
For I have failed you,
Not once, not twice,
Many times !
I now see a light of hope,
That falls on me,
Awakening the right inside me,
O God make me one of your disciples,
Forgive everybit of what i've done,
So that I live in peace and eternity,
In the life that i've yet to see !
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)
When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.
The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)
So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.
In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.
If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
She is the living embodiment of the cliché,
The song where the male sub-lead
Returns from some second shift, some third drink
To find she has gone, leaving some scrap-paper note,
Hastily scribbled and wholly incomplete,
Some variation upon Don’t try and find me,
And so she is suitably unfound herself,
As she has given great thought to her froms,
But rather short shrift to her tos,
Finding herself north of the Thruway,
Looking for somewhere to spend the night
(The twin motors of adrenaline and anxiety running on fumes)
Happening upon, as if almost by some beneficent magic,
A Travelodge bordered by an expanse of cornfield
(Long since gone to seed, the stalks bowed and spent,
Waiting for the patently overdue cob harvester)
And after she is checked in and somewhat unpacked
(The bored, bemused woman who slumps about the front desk
Mercifully sparing with the small talk)
The skies, which had been late-October slate blur-gray,
Slightly malevolent but only implicit in their threats,
Open up in a cold and unwelcome drizzle,
And, whys and wherefores being things for a later date,
She runs outside and begins dancing in the parking lot,
Unseen and unremarked upon,
And even though the rain is cold, soaking, grim in portent
(The forecast dourly noting the possibility of wet snow,
Nattering that accumulation is possible at higher elevations.)
She is seemingly unaware and unconcerned
As to the upshot of this drenching,
Any whispers of the two or three other occupants of the motel,
Any judgments passed upon her mad danse pour un,
As she has passed beyond any notion of admonition.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
*Eyes closed, I clear my mind,
Meditation breathing, stars aligned
Letting go I begin to soar
A delightful destination, a feeling of warmth.*
*And when clouds fill my skies
I simply rise above to bluer highs
Because If I think of beneficent thoughts
I can change the world a lot.*
*And when the sunshine fills my eyes
I spread my wings and begin to fly.
Soaring right through trouble and despair
Putting a smile on my face with love to share!*
*Like the four seasons, we are all delicate...
In Winter each snowflake is unique
in Spring the blossoming flower carries much mystique
The Summer rain washes our soul complete
And in the Fall we renew our souls for all to see!*
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination.
Winds that billow in bellows of blue balderdash,
that hides these vague souls in the elephant grass,
as white horses run for an unconsecrated pass;
I sit sipping lightning from a small green flask.
I cannot see beyond this collision of cataracts,
sitting in a puddle of Alzheimer's and absent facts,
hard to predict parlor tricks' and posthumous pacts,
metamorphosis of those we ****** on, lies intact.
Veins constricted from catastrophes and contradictions,
synapses sinewed by audacious biannual addictions,
misdemeanors of malicious misnomers and maledictions,
breathing in the beneficent bleating of benedictions.
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
I relish the quiet,
The lonely quiet,
The persistent,
Insistent,
Beneficent
Quiet.
An infrequent guest,
This exceptional quiet.
A novelty,
An innovation,
A comprehensively new creation.
To what do I owe this
Unexpected visit
My sweet and silent visitor?
More often than not
Do you make yourself scarce.
I long for the quietude,
The soundless,
The stillness,
The taming of tongues,
The zipping of lips.
It's an impossible request,
Especially at home.
But for now,
I'll savor the silence,
Partake in the peace.
For in this nugget of time
My family has left,
And I am left
In the solace of solitude.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
Whence a shadow
Ceases to be a shadow,
Love can be seen
In the Light
That hath vanquished
The pain in its iniquity.
Who I am ceases to be
When the
Beneficent Matriarch Mirror
Unfurls the Pandemonium
Ruminant behind the glass.
For this umbra
Is still the darkness
Of a heart
Eclipsed
In its own Dark Orbit.
Until the Dawn
Shines Eden
Upon Flourishing Spirits
Purged of the
Loveless Blight
Existing only in their minds and hearts.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
Say...
There is one God,
There is none like unto Him,
For He is the Light
of the heavenly Glory,
All-knowing, all wise,
The Eternal
and Most High is He,
To Him do we turn in praise,
To Him do we seek salvation,
He is the beautiful Beloved,
The divine Creator
of the joy of life.
Say...
There is no God
but the One true God,
It is His love that beats richly
in all searching souls,
He is the One and Only,
No partners does He have,
He is the Life immortal,
His is the name sweetly sung
in the early morning dew,
He is the ever loving God,
The most Beneficent
and most Merciful.
Say...
God is great!
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC
You are my sky.
the cure of my scar
You are my only wish
You are the shooting star.
You are the one I see
When there's no one for me
You are the one that stands
Even when the havoc lands.
You are my holy wing
You are above everything
You are the eye of my heart
You are the soul of my art.
You are my earth my space
You are the falling grace
You are my sun my moon
You are the light in doom
You are the All praised
You are the all grace
You are the Judge
You are the executioner of Grudge
You are The God
The only one I sought
You are the Love and melody
You are the soul of Rhapsody
You are the Beloved Lord
You are the God
The most beneficent Lord
MY GOD
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC