In an age of demonic deceit, Love, beauty and truth have fled to take shelter in the city of the Beloved, writes Mujeeb Jaihoon.
I passed by the tavern:
The wine was missing, unknown.
I passed by the heart:
Love was gone, not a beat.
The tree of beauty:
Barren and empty.
The sword of truth:
Missing from its sheath.
I asked the Lord in prayer;
Came the reply in a whisper:
“They have sought asylum
In the blessed city of Meem.”
Aug 18 2024. Hanoi, Vietnam. (Safar 14, 1446)
By weighing the count of forgetting against remembering, this poem proves that math always fails once the self dissolves in
Our everyday choices are emotional, not rational. We demand proof for God but never for the morning coffee.
We revolve around His “signboards” like little ones circling a merry-go-round. We run between the hills, leaving behind the barren
By weighing the count of forgetting against remembering, this poem proves that math always fails once the self dissolves in