Ya Rahman!
May my life be taken,
Not once, but many times;
Though hardly worthy
To witness Meem’s beauty.
Ya Rahman!
Are You not the Most Kind,
The voice and sight
Of the dumb and the blind?
Why then conceal Your Beloved
From his lovers—eager and desperate?
Their hearts burn in his love-coal
For a glance of their eyes’ kohl.
Ya Rahman!
Excuse my heretic lines;
Exhausted am I in love-praise.
Expel me not from the faith-tribe.
Oct 16, 2025 | Rabi al-Thani 24, 1447
By weighing the count of forgetting against remembering, this poem proves that math always fails once the self dissolves in
By weighing the count of forgetting against remembering, this poem proves that math always fails once the self dissolves in
Jaihoon explores the mystical paradox of the ageless, vibrant soul trapped within the decaying cage of mortality.
Fading stars require long waits. Yet, the Beloved of God transcends time, knowing your name before you even speak.