The I of the Beholder
By weighing the count of forgetting against remembering, this poem proves that math always fails once the self dissolves in
There’s something about
Your Beloved’s name;
A mention, and my soul
Loses its body-tame.
The very sound of it,
Like the monsoon rain
For those wandering in thirst,
Damned in the sinful famine.
It inspires in the disheartened
A compassionate ray of hope;
And for those who in despair cried,
Their tears begin to stop.
Did You not call him
The ‘Mercy to the Worlds’?
And I very well know
These are not hollow words.
His very mention:
An adorable melody
For our sleepless souls,
Crying for a remedy.
Oh! Is he not
The sole reason why
Other bodies see
The Earth with envy?
How many hundreds
Of years have passed?
Yet none’s praise,
Like his, has surpassed.
O Allah! Praise to You
For the Hijazi Rasool;
For his thoughts kindle
The love-fire within my soul.
13th June 2003. Edit 2026
Mujeeb Jaihoon explores themes of universal love,
deeply embedded in a disruptive spiritual worldview.
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.