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O ALLAH! (Collaboration with Beena -- "Spocky")
Beena (Spocky) begins poem, Muhammad Naveed Ahmed responds:
Your pleas may not be thankless,
nonetheless that's what they are,
what would you have done if Allah,
Had not bestowed you with insight?
Had you been a happier person if
He had not given you inner sight?
You say that Allah does not heed the cries of man,
How wrong of you to assume,
That the Creator who created with a drop of blood,
Could turn a blind eye from who He most loves,
What would you have done if He would make the you blind?
Not from your eyes but from your soul?
Would you trade your soul
For something trivial?
I think not my friend,
The soul is Him in all His sublimity,
And heaven and hell reside within our hearts,
It's up to us to choose what we want,
Why then should we complain about miseries
When we should thank him for all His blessings?
Ya Allah! Forgive me my sins,
For I am nothing, nor do I want to be,
I just want you to love me.
MY PLEAS ARE NOT THANKLESSNESS
(Response)
It's my gratefulness to Him that stops,
Me, from asking why He created hearts,
He says that sacred place is His home,
Why must it break with words of stone?
I thank Him for eyes, ears and sight,
But what about every sleepless night?
He says His love fills souls with peace,
Why does my tension then increase?
I thank Him for my feet and hands,
And for everything that is grand,
But why is a talented one 'breaking her pen',
Her misery, shouldn't He understand?
What fault did Adam and Eve have,
Who made the 'serpent' if not God?
Who planted in Eden an evil tree,
As a test? Or for their misery?
I came here but not on my own,
He is the Decider Alone,
Let all doubts be cleared here and now,
Can His 'Light' be alongside 'darkness'?
Am I the master of my fate?
If so, how come He is Great?
Why this debate about right and wrong,
Where is my heaven? Show me the gate.
He says in His own Revelations:
The universe sings His hymns and praise,
Then why take me to task for some rituals?
Must I bow down with a blackened face?
His 'home' have I taken care of for long,
Hoping He would make it belong,
To Him only and bless it with 'Light',
To this day the walls don't shine bright.
To this day this broken heart of mine,
Seeks Him only and His Love Divine,
But except promises and words of hope,
I feel I am condemned... to pine.
Link me not with thanklessness,
I know my God and He too knows me,
My heart, His home, waits for Him,
But, with each day, the hope does dim.
I worship Him not fearing His Hell,
Nor do so for His Paradise,
All I seek is but His presence,
In the lone 'home' where, He claims, He dwells.
