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[JIBRIL ABDULMALIK]
I cannot find any masterpiece
How then do I plan?
There are no shoulders on which to stand
Shoulders of any giant of great stance
How then do I view the remaining journey?
How do I understand?
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

[EDINO ABIGAEL]
You might feel like a pirate
whose masterpiece Is lost between waves and tides,
But, look In the mirror
Who you see Is the master's piece.
This Is the greatest conviction.
Those great giants you look up to,
Are now like Goliath,
Lying helpless down your feet,
Let this be the hope you seek.

[JIBRIL ABDULMALIK]
The path I seek does not seek me in return
The one I love never loved me — I was just taken for fun.
Should I think less of my so called friends or should I say much of them?
They only show up whenever I find a gem
Shouldn't I say less of my very own?
Whom I danced to his great plans — plans for me alone
Great plans for the tomorrow that is never known
Only to find he never had a plan, not even of his own
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

[EDINO ABIGAEL]
You are at a crossroad,
All path seems right.
But, right In you,
Is a Great compass
Leading away from doom.
Trace your steps one, two,
Deep within the bed of your shattered heart,
Sleeps the hope you seek!

JIBRIL ABDULMALIK AND EDINO ABIGAEL ©2019
ConnectHook Sep 2015
۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞  ۞    

When the Mahdi returns to smite Dajjal,
When the Antichrist in his temple of lies
is vanquished by lightning from God’s black skies
as the shuddering stars blink, waver and fall,
When JAH Rastafari, Lord Jesus (and Paul)
With Isaac and Ismael – even Jibril
Cash in on redemption and pay up the bill
(no longer in discord, but harmonized all) –
When the Jinn (and the tonik) have thrown in the towel
as libations are served by the Heavenly Host,
while Apollyon’s watchdog combusts with a howl
and the demons and dhimmicrats give up the ghost –
only then shall we learn not to entertain doubt.
But until that apocalypse: vote the clowns out !
The signs of the arrival of Dajjal are emerging:
جن لوگوں نے دجال کے بارے میں پڑھا ہے انکے لئے یہ جاننا آسان ہے کہ دجال کا پورا سسٹم تیار ہو چکا ہے.
انکو لیڈ کریں گے اور زلزے جو آرہے ہیں موسم بدل رہا ہے یہ سب حدیثوں میں آچکا ہے۔ پاکستان میں سیلاب اور زلزلہ ڈینگی یہ سب اسی کا ایک حصہ ہے

۞  ۩  ۞
dare you to listen to THIS:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lww3LftQaw
I am like water:
I am tender, yet bold
Your thought is my container
How much of me can it hold?
Do not underestimate me;
enlarge the container
For I am a mystery yet untold.

I am like water:
I take the shape of your container
Your thought is that container
I am to you as you think of me
Look into me; I am a reflection of yourself.

I am like water:
I go to where I flow
And I flow to where I go
And I'll always find a path to follow.

I am like water:
I cannot be understood
For I am beyond your horizon
Shapen the container as you like,
it will never form the true shape of me
My true self is free — it cannot be contained.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
How you see or think of me, reflects  how you behaviour or act towards me. Which in turn, I reciprocate.
You said you saw me dancing in the rain.
You said I looked happy and sane.
If only you were truly true,
You would have noticed my pain.
If only you really knew
And not just claim,
You would have seen that my tears were the rain.

Dear friend,
If only you were truly true,
Maybe I would still be alive today.
Maybe. Just maybe.

—Abdulmalik Jibril
Do not try to look at me
— I am in a mantle —
I cannot be seen.

Do not try to call me
I will not answer
For I do not want to utter a word
— I want to listen in silence —
For I am in the company of the essence.

Do not try to understand
For I, myself, do not understand.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
There is a secret;
The Secret of secrets
Beyond the imagination of our impure selves
There, lies all my unknown self
For I am a mystery yet untold.

Here, I am
But seen to be there.
There, was I
But not seen nor heard.

I was looked at, but not seen
I did not speak, but I was heard
I was not looked at, but I was seen
I was not heard, but I was listened to

This shadow is not mine but this body's
For I am not this body but this soul

—Jibril Abdulmalik ©2019
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
Can't you do anything right?
As a nation, my we, my act I made up,
as a mind, as bear
me, the big ol' teddy bear I became
when she wed me,
as she did… yes, she did

my awesome new creature, some how
lost all hope of wind
change, whistled away,
the courage departed at the first, estimation-

- interupture, bloats out, bic bubble,  popped in
- this stream to rewind the new mine, sparkfire
- mine, me, I whistled that very tune, go
that rock song about a river in Russia,---
not then, now, then

I got angry, a gift I gave, was rejected, my god,
wombed man, what must I do to know
as you know, knowing good and evil?
- where did I miss,
- I gave, oops, an iron.
- I called it a gift, but it was a common tool
- we needed in those early days of suits and ties.
But when I got angry, at the rejection, I slipped
into a schema, a modulation, in a wave… a point
- this was that point, ever once began with
Green satin sheets, a gift too
slippery,
not a point a foul, judged evil,
no good at all.

Knowing, if I do know, y'know
like what one
might know,
once, upon a taste,
slow chew, soft chew to taste, something
in this other tree
is new, new as any new shown thing
in this new polity
state, a new being, yes. this is it.

Make up a mind, or find one ready
made to take you in, and you cease
to be
you.

--------- later, we take up these qwerty codes
as in olden time

signals, modulation rhythmic silent letters
sounding
----
time and space, as the vehicle, the bubble,
we live in, or on, or as a part,
perhaps, of a we, awe-ish,
we function as a piece, in the whole idea
holy,
fill it, fill the hole, fill the empty, whither
nothing was and now,

I see, I am.
Where nothing was, I am, now
seeing as I am
where nothing was, am I as
nothing, open source
spirit, in a word, mayhaps,
may has always
been your way to go, we say
may be could be, no permission,
no mission maybe, go,
this is the message, the medium we be in.
Certain,
something is real, as real as any angelos,
as an os
developed to reach Lex Fridman, as an an-
swerving answer found
round that prickly little hedgehog facsimile
wink, past, flash glimpse
sense,
eh, bow, oops,
wow, I ran into the strong man in Iran
ascriptural blockage bear trap for lying spirits
Where Persia yoostabe, I managed to slip
through on a green sheet, that flipped
over time into an invitation, to a party
three weeks ago. Missed it.

Daniel's message read,
Excused. How could you cogitate the ways
time and chance twist the dance to seem
a tangle of possibilities, burnt satin
ash of things that never mattered, spirits
unprecipitated, Red Spot, Ted Talk, chalk
it up to another Warholian pro-phecy
or pro- fessing fident confi dense ity, we
inspire con-spiritstory-aspirations, toward awes.
as we beingspirits, at most, we make wind in the
bubble, we heirs of breath y nada mas,
we breathe meaning, even, average, virtue, which is
virtually an idle word in many tongues, virtue is
"moral {moral, really, what is that?
-AI says they may use the same tool,
-in an ever where chess is infinitely played, let them learn}
Lex's AI reads Hello Poet- tryal
-link, link, think, reader, first reader, mora-
more more more or, no, now define,
- the point-
show
strength,
high character,
goodness;
manliness;
valor, bravery,
courage (in war{LIE, I cry, war, morally, repulsive,
I talk back to war as my moral use of courazonic
minds erupt in matters consci-ence
weighing the worthy breath
versus the empty breath});
excellence, worth,"
from vir "man" (from PIE root *wi-ro- "man").

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=virtue&ref=searchbar_searchhint>

Wierdo, dam, vvery wary are we, mere winds in minds
that never matter, participate - no price, appraise
an angel, a message, nada mas participate in
precipitation, frost warmed forms morning dew
drops, and those, flow after,
dropping plop, into this river of no returns,
royal flush. Try to or try et?
Po-et-ry…,
like Whiskey and Rye, why must something
hold the spirit of that thing
to taste a worth of trying again,
and try… in order
Think; I think, commas mean breathe, and ; these
are winks. I betcha, what Jesus would do, were you
to ask him, what is real, as real as any jibril jargon,
he would grammarwise as alwise, use a sign;
like that, quicken,
a wink, a thought cast to ever, after, as the games
expand, who wins, Al ai ai, bet on i-,
ante-up, you work the odds.

You think we think
winning is a numbers game, lots cast to exchange
worth of my time, packeted, as
words, mere breaths we may refine to mean
truth trumps love, as rock breaks scissors,
and we laugh, due to winning
requiring laughing
as the healing begins anew,
we live and breathe this spiring material,
eh, mater
mmma ma material matters of time and chance,
prayers are
living stories, packed in lines. Use of knowing,
learning how, conscientious, with sci use, be knowing
next-ifity acts as if
neti, neti is not an honest answer, it can be honed
to pierce the acting reality,
and leave us blowing in the wind.
To all in the good fight, I offer knowing
reproves instructions in war being wrong, not evil,
only not right.
War does no good, any polity it makes acts as
a destroying wind, with no mind of venging,
only raging, sound and fury,

and at the point of no hope, I think
I am and
still, after all
listing as a warming breeze, I make a joy
mmm and imagine
I enjoy you being, still, receiving grace,
gentle wisdom, nothing hidden, nothing broken
freedom defined as peace, shalom
taken as
bold liberty, no price, for truth, once known
remains
within the bubble we live and breathe in. You know.
When the battle was over,

the thought of war was blown away, we do that,
every day,
in certain conversations, as we pack parts and pieces
------------------------------

Ghost guns, spirit blades, hand to hand hand grenades,
not carnal, these cut and seal the deal.
Mortal being, live for ever, in a word, or many,
as many as survive the womb to die before
death, the second, as they count,
may hap occur once again, missed points,
that pierce the wrong lonely heart
and expose the image
on a single nanoparticle of silver
gleaming golden in the light.
AWS 502 errors, step aside, this is real poet trying to resuscitate
Today, I am again closer
to everything mine —destined.
Better than I was,
Good for how I want,
And best for what is to come.
That, I know, without doubt.

As much as I have gone farther,
I know I am yet to be
where I want to be.
Just as I know, without doubt,
What will be will be.
I am at peace and ease
Knowing Who holds the wheel.

Whatever comes after
Was never meant to come before.
And whatever comes before
Was never meant to come after.
However, whenever.

Today, I am wiser and stronger
than I was yesterday.
But I am not getting any younger
Just so you know,
Today, I am a year older.

©By Abdulmalik Jibril
You are you
You are  the unusual; like a noontide dew
You're birth of this fertile soil
Who else should you be but you?
Be yourself,
let everyone in trying to be you, toil
Don't try to become anyone but you
Be the main character, let everyone be a foil
You're greater than you think
Why have you chosen to join the queue?
Don't be to yourself a turmoil
Of your kind, if there're any, they're but few

You're you
That is truer than true
You are an exceptional aesthetic
There's no one alive who is youer than you
You are an extraordinary piece of the greatest artist
You're one of a kind
There's no one like you.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019

[DR. SEUSS]
“Today you are You,
That is truer than true.
There is no one alive who is Youer
than You.”
Sito Fossy Biosa May 2022
GABRIEL & JIBRIL
aku = saya
V, (x) akan hilang sebentar lagi.
Sito Fossy Biosa and lonely poetry
I lost myself in thoughts of things to be
That I find my tears drowning me.
I have seen enough there is to see,
Yet, I do not know of any truth to set me free

I have prayed and prayed,
That I find no word left unsaid.
I have paid and paid,
And do not know of any price left unpaid.

I do not know what demon has cover my lantern's light.
Even the stars are scared of this cloudy night.
I am lost between what is left and what is right
That I do not know what is right or left to sacrifice.

I have faith all things shall pass away,
But I fear this as well might sway.
I shall pray just this last day.
And hope I am heard before my hair turns grey.

–Abdulmalik Jibril
My dearest
My beloved
Rose of flowers
Peacock of birds
Diamond of gemstones
Sirius of stars
You are all of those and I am the lover.

I am the kite
and you are the string
You are my star
and you are the blink
I am the sky
and you are the ring
I am the flight
and you are the wings
I am the lover
and you are the beloved

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
When I begin writing a poem,
the tears, blood and sweat of  the innocent become my ink
and the bones become my pen.

When I begin writing a poem,
the voiceless become my thoughts and I become the words of the voiceless.

When I begin writing a poem,
I only stop when I find no more pen,
for the bones are gone to the soil ben
And when there's no more ink,
for the tears, blood and sweat are dried up when there's no more heat

When I begin writing a poem,
beyond myself do I think,
till every line makes a sense
and the message is clear and felt.

By Jibril Abdulmalik ©2019
Life's most precious gift:
To live, we have to just breathe
But there're thoughts beyond thoughts,
Trapped in a realm, yearning to be freed:
If we hold this breathe seize,
We shall seize to live, but leave
But sometimes, to actually live, we have to leave

There's a thin line between sanity and insanity
Erased by our unsay
There's a thin line between Illusion and reality
Erased by our don'ts

This place of gracious enticement
Where we watch us being killed
A place filled with men of slightest thoughts
Amused by this illusional amusement
A place where nothing is real
Full of dos and don'ts, yet no one is free

Though we all came with says and dos
We've not by ourselves chosen to be free
We've trapped all those for the sake of our creed

Why then not hold this breathe seize to actually live
For stance where our thoughts could not reach
For life in a place we've never seen
A place where we're actually free
Why don't we leave to actually live?

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Do not go far to listen to the praises of my heart
Listen to your heart
— the praises come from there —
I am there.

Do not go far by your actions to call me to yourself
Come closer
I am not far from you
By your voice, I shall hear.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Cast not your glance on the beauty of the stars
Look here at this eyes, they are the beauty of the galaxy.

Kiss not these lips and render them speechless,
for they mayn't know to sing the songs of your heart and soul

Whisper not in this ears, but to this heart,
For this ears mayn't bear the weight of your words

Look beyond the pale,
Look not for gold, but this soul
For it sings praises of you

Love not this body nor this heart, it is but dust
Love this soul with all your soul
It is not me nor you, it is us.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
We've walked too far to look back.
If we look back,
we'd think we've walked too far
from where we are coming from
and too close to where we are heading to.
But If we look forward,
we'd realize we've walked far
from where we're coming from,
but far from where we want to be.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Never look back. Always look forward
There are voices
in my head.
They tell me
what to say and do
and what not to,
when to say and do
and when not to,
how to say and do
and how not to,
And why.

These voices
are those of my best friend.
They will never leave
as long as I live.
Is there a friendship
greater than this?

©Abdulmalik Jibril
Notes
To define a woman,
it needs more than just words
For their true nature is beyond thoughts
So, a woman is more than just who or what.

If through a woman was everyone brought
So not to say naught,
Till we forever find a better word
for now,
A woman is synonymous with the word "world"

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
I said it wasn't my country,
so I watched her milks turn acids
her blood diluting her rivers of honey
and her tears washing off her own fertility.

I had no fear—
     for it wasn't near.

I said it wasn't my tribe,
so I saw,
but pretended not to have even looked
I listened,
but pretended not to have even heard
Yet it was written on my every line;
they aren't of my kind.

I didn't care—
     for it wasn't my tears.

I said it wasn't my religion,
so I turned my back
reciting from my scriptures
I have eyes, but had no vision.

I had no fear—
     for of God, who dares?

It came for my country, but I wasn't near
It went for my tribe, but I wasn't there
It came for my religion, but I wasn't aware.
Now it has come for me,
but there's no one here.

By Abdulmalik Jibril
©2019
Unless we tolerate,
We are not peaceful.

Unless we endure,
We are not patient.

Unless we let go,
We are not yet free.

Unless we trust,
We have no faith.

Unless we are compassionate,
We are not humane.

Unless we care,
We do not truly love.

Unless we love,
We have not actually lived.

Unless we understand,
We do not fully know.

© By Abdulmalik Jibril
When I stare or listen,
my thoughts do same
And I'm left speechless.
So what do I say
when my thoughts stare or listen?
What do I say
when I cannot think?

You are trapped within my thoughts for aye
I'm in love with you,
not your body
For you are not the body,
but the soul.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
I cannot find any masterpiece
How then do I plan?
There are no shoulders on which to stand
Shoulders of any giant of great stance
How then do I view the remaining journey?
How do I understand?
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

The one I love does not love me in return
All along, I was waiting for a train at the bus stop
I was played — taken for fun
Can the heart still beat after it has been torn?
When will I stop hearing the 'pii pii pii' or 'puun puun puun' ?
When will I ever hear the train horn?
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

I walked with my greatest companion — my thought
Much was I shown
Even beyond what I seek, in gracious colours
Only to reach the journey end to be betrayed by my own thoughts;
What I seek, never sought me
Tell me, of what difference am I from a soldier who trained forever, only to meet his end in just a day, at the battle front?
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

Should I think less of my so called friends
or should I say much of them?
They only show up whenever I find a gem
They deliver panegyric when things are right
And they come by day to leave at night

Shouldn't I sink in thoughts of my home sweet home?
Shouldn't I say less of my very own?
Whom I danced to his great plans — plans for me alone
Great plans for the tomorrow that is never known
Only to find he never had a plan, not even of his own
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

Who should I run to?
Where do I go from here?
Please teach me how to stop thinking
So I may conquer my fear
For I've sought far and near
I've written to many eyes and sang to many ears
I've cried out my heart, but no one seems to care
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

Which leader would you refer me to?
Is it the one who preaches only what the people want to hear
Or the one who looks at evil and pretend not to see due to fear?
Is it the one who says what the heart cannot bear
Or the one who preaches, but does not want to be dared?
Tell me, is there still hope for me?

I am here
all alone
You may not understand me
that, I know
You are not under this tree
How then will you know the nature of its shade?

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
I'm left here, all alone, with nothing left. Is there still hope for me?
They said every sun that set will surely raise,
And in-between is but time.
What if I rest and never raise,
But you awoke to the sunshine,
Will you bring me the sun where I lie?
Will you hug yourself to comfort me with your smile?

If tomorrow comes, o friend
And you awoke before I do,
Will you wake me up
And give me from your meal?
Will you be my friend still
Or you will unveil what I feel to be real?
If it rains on your farm before mine,
Dear friend, do not forget
That we first watered the soil with our sweat
And through the thick and thin of life,
We dared nature with a smile.

Tell me, o friend. Tell me.
If things never get right and fine,
Will you still be by my side?

By Abdulmalik Jibril
Do not try to be beautiful
You are beauty itself
Why try to be what you already are?

Set not your body on fire.
It will surely burn to ash
Ignite your soul.
Light up your path,
That others may follow
For you are not this body,
but that soul.

Embellish your heart and soul
Love not your body with all your soul,
but your soul with all your body
For you are not this body,
but that soul.

Cast not your glance on the beauty of the stars
Seek your soul.
It is your true self.
It is the beauty of the galaxy

Look beyond the pale,
Look not for gold,
but yourself.
You are most valuable to your possessor.
For you are not this body, but that soul.

— JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
If you think of me,
you shall find me.
But when your eyes rain,
know that it brings me pain.
For your tears may curse the land and leave it barren.

As you think of me, so am I.
Think me gone, gone I shall be.
So think not of me gone;
know that I live.
I only left the body.
I left once to live forever.
For I am not the body, but the soul.

There is a thin line between both lanes.
I shall await you where the line ends.

Jibril, Abdulmalik ©2019
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
Malika is an Arabic word which means Queen, while Malik is the masculine gender which means King.
WE
We are not all privileged to find shoulders on which to stand
To have a better view of the remaining journey
Shoulders of giants of great stance.

We are not all blessed with masterpieces from which to extract our plans.

We are not all blessed with pleasant sounds
Sounds to which we can dance.

We are not all smiled upon by nature
Some people don't even get a glance.

We are not all blessed with good family and friends
Some don't even cross paths
We are not all given such chance.

We may all be blessed with knowledge
But not everyone understands.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Through your eyes,
I see what lies in your heart
Through your silence,
I hear your voice
Through your voice,
I hear your silence
I do not know if all these through  are true
But I know what to believe,
and that is only what is from you.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
I thought of love,
then I lost myself.
For I found it
beyond my knowingness.

Again, in my lost self,
I thought of love
and love found me.
Then it became of me,
as I, of it.
Now, love is me and I am love.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
It is not in your beauty that I found love;
It is in your love that I see beauty.

And if you care as much,
I would care more.

If you care more,
I would care most.

For this path of ours is not blind,
But truth from love's perspective.

If hate ponders this path of ours,
It shall find nothing of its kind,

But evolve,
Just as we have, in love

Beyond all barriers –the isms:
Racism; tribalism; religionism,

To become one –WE:
You, me and love.

©Abdulmalik Jibril
On hills beyond the realm of love did she await her beloved.

Her thoughts were enough a companion
Full of hope of returned affection
Her tears were enough a fuel for the old mother's lamp.

She waited forever and a day
Now she is old as the hills

There, was she sat, under an ornament when lo, and behold from underneath the hill came a tender wind carrying the fragrance of he.

She shook the ornament to adorn the path to her beloved
Her thoughts jumped to the bottom of the hill
With hope and love in her eyes she followed the scent
She sang and danced past nature.

She reached the bottom of the hill to meet her thoughts in tears of surprise
Her forever beloved, had left a dear Jane letter.

She smiled with a frowned heart and laughed with a bleeding heart
She whispered underneath her breath: "This heart can never be broken, for it is not fragile but muscle.
So I am heart-wounded and not heartbroken.
This heart will surely heal, but the scar will remain forever."

-JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
For those who were heartbroken.
Teach man an alphabet
and he may think
he already knows scriptures
Teach him scriptures
and he may think
he already knows the secret of the universe
Show him the secret of the universe
and he may think himself equal to God
Show him the way how
and he may depart from you
and differ in route.

— Jibril Abdulmalik ©2019
When you see me smiling —all by myself
Or dancing —holding hands with the wind,
Do not think me crazy.
For this music, only my kind understands:
The echoes of the songs of the beloved;
The reflection of the beloved's beauty.
From where no one hears nor sees
But the lover.

By Abdulmalik Jibril
What you've refused to let go,
is what holds you in captivity.
Be like the wind: be free.
You are the peace that you seek.

By Abdulmalik Jibril
Do not think you can ever be greater than you think;
You can never be.
You can only be as great as you think.

You are only as great as you think.
Think beyond that,
And you shall be greater.

Your thoughts are your limitations.
Think beyond yourself.
Think through the heart of men.
Think beyond thoughts.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
You are only as great as you think. Think beyond that, and you shall be greater.
Sing me not songs of stars,
Bring your ears to my breast,
You will hear the songs of my heart.
Not just of the moon and sun,
But those of the universe.

Bring me not flowers
Nor butterflies.
Exalt my presence
For you are rose — most pleasant
And you are my butterfly — more elegant.

Take me not to places worth milk and honey,
Take me to your heart
The deepest and calmest part
Let me rest there
Under its gracious sky
With you beside me,
Gazing at the inner beauty of you.
For no treasure is beyond there.

©ABDULMALIK JIBRIL
How long will it take me to tell you
Stories of the three group of eight prisoners
And how my mind left me for you.
For I'm lost,
Hoping to find myself when you find me.
If only you truly look —with care.
I hope never is not far from here,
For I know forever is nowhere near.

How long will it take you to tell me?
That you hear how my heart beats in pair:
With you and for you.
And the thousand and one words in my silence
Hoping that you truly listen —with care.
Maybe, or maybe not,
Someday I will dare take a step.
I hope forever is somewhere near,
For I know never is far from here.

I can only hope, my dear.
Who am I to dare
And what do you even care?

©JIBRIL ABDULMALIK
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
I forgot myself in your smile.
Never stop smiling,
that I might find myself.

I forgot hate in loving you
Lock the doors,
that I might not find what I've forgotten.

I forgot my learning
trying to know you,
now I've become learned.

I forgot my ways
trying to know your ways
Show me all your ways,
that i might find my ways.

I forgot my speech in your voice
Do not stop talking,
that I might find what to say.

I forgot my thoughts in thoughts of you
And in that, have I written what I found
trying to find my thoughts.

—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
O friend! A friend, truly, are you
To have noticed my iron legs,
And not the rotten part; the host of flies.
How pleasant was the fragrance
Which you thought to be that of buoyance?

O friend! A friend, truly, are you
To have noticed my tears in the rain.
Ah! You did not see at all,
For my tears was the rain.

O friend! A friend, truly, are you
To neglect my presence before came the sun:
When I was trying to kindle my candle,
But comprehend my presence when the sun rose.

O friend! Was it the scars on my shadow you saw
Or the shadows of my scar?
Whichever, both were mine.
Or did you not see at all?
A friend, truly, are you then.

By Abdulmalik Jibril
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

— The End —