Our Lord is He Whose Mercy remains un-enumerated by man or jinn (another type of unseen created being). He has made us a mutual mercy one to the other, in blood, in marriage, in friendship and in love. The prophets and messengers were the best of people and Muhammad (sall Allahu alayhi wa sallam) was the best of them. The helpers of these blessed heralds were the next best among men and jinn and the Companions of Al Amin (the Trustworthy, another ‘nickname’/ title for Muhammad sall Allahu alayhi wa sallam) were the best of them. And today we number one upon the other, folded wave upon wave as a great sea scattered variously across the world. But when the body that seems so expanse and so whole has a heart that is broken and self-consuming, where goeth the soul?
Turning back to Allah with the weeping eyes of a child and a blinking reflection on heaped up weaknesses and miseries, we see again how easy this path has been made for us; the road made smooth, accessible for even the most lame, a direct route carved from the ruination of stone worship by that most splendid tool, Truth. When Islam was forged from the mines of ignorance and made both pure and purifying, there were none to aid the Noble Messenger but a few. A few clear sighted men and women seemingly weak in the land yet with hearts greater than Uhud and all the treasures that it could ever contain. From this was carved a nation, not without fault, but the likes of which was and will never be known; from darkness to light, from ignorance to knowledge, from falsehood to truth, and like a dream our Creator laid bare the sirāt al mustaqīm (the straight path).
We have one another, sister to brother; when we stumble there are arms a-plenty to catch us and hand upon hand to help. Yet the arms are frail and the hands so swiftly withdrawn for the heart is sick and the skin is festering and pale, malnourished and bloated with conceit. Pride has spread his mantle and our nation, this ummah, is infected with this cancer in its very soul. Pride is a cloak of fire, it is a mantle of destruction and horror, it is the seed of an unending transmorphing plague; black-white, sunni–shiᶜi, tutsi-hutu, me-you…
Turn back you one turn back you all to the treasure of our purpose hewn in blood and passion, turn with sincerity to our goal: the Hereafter in the transfixed gaze of the purest pleasure, the perfected peak of all reality, turn back to your Master’s Face! To lose it is to lose yourself, a loss so debased, so low, a loss to a place wherein no light may seep except the lightning shards of terrible screams and mind shattering pain, a place wherein there blossoms the evil of what you alone have sewn!
Oh Lord of mine shelter me and help me set forth
Today what I seek for all my tomorrows,
A path to you with my brotherhood,
Free from pride and selfishness
To positions near to You, my Lord,
A horizon forever fixed upon Your Face,
To a throne of thrones of precious stones
With crowns and pearls and love to enthral
A dream come true for each of us
Where no darkness or evil shall ever again fall!
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