We are not worth a penny on our own. But if crowned with the servitude of Allah, we become the envy of His Angels.- suggests Mujeeb Jaihoon
The whole day,
I was in utter pain,
Heart blinded,
With the gloomy strain.
I wanted to eagerly know,
Why this pain-wind blow?
My body, torn and worn:
Wanted to sleep,
But, swollen with pain,
My heart fell steep.
I wished for His all-Embracing Mercy,
Like the passionate Nightingale, crazy.
And then during the night,
A smile came to light.
All my worries were in vain:
The devil had put up a game.
All of a sudden,
Everything seemed even.
There was no more pain,
Nor anything else to complain.
Strange indeed:
This little story,
The same rose,
Made sad and cheery.
Very often in life,
This is the case:
A painful thorn precedes
Every joyful rose.
Lose not your soul
In the pain of the thorn,
Nor about the lovely rose
You dream from dusk to dawn.
Jaihoon’s humble words
Keep in your mind,
For your goodness sake,
Leave them not behind!
About the thorn and the rose,
Think but very little,
But greater contemplate
About the ONE who creates.
Hey Lovers!
Be not so proud
Of your yearning Love
And burning Hate!
On your own,
You are worth not a penny.
Become a slave of His:
Angels will envy your crown.
Love is no love at all
If for Him is not a role.
Your love and hate
Shall be for Him.
Except for His sake,
Everything else, at stake.
Dec 22 2002. Edit March 2024
