Beloved

Eyes moist with tears and a heart pained through longing.

Footprints mark the lands; trodden bare foot. Throats parched with thirst, hands risen in hope; the sweetness of the struggle dancing on dry lips.

The seeking of the Beloved, is the path to the meeting; yearning through a desire.

A love, only eternal.

Separation from the beloved is not possible.
Lovers don’t just meet. Their within each other all along.

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Beyond Faults

Love beyond all faults, My friend.
Who knows which one of your faults, may turn the Beloveds face away from you?

So remember, to Love beyond all faults,
for only Love can teach and Mercy can rectify.

Live in His spirit,
Love beyond all faults.
My friend,
you were once lost too.

The Passionate Woman

Feel blessed to be a woman of passion

A passionate woman. 
A woman who feels and hears.

A woman who cries from her soul and laughs from her breast,
Full of joy and love. 

A giving woman. 
A kind woman. 
A woman not afraid of her mistakes. 

A woman God has blessed time and time again.
An Imperfect woman,
Who is proud of her blessings

Rejoice in the passion he has given you. 

The feeling of feeling passionate about something or someone is a feeling not everyone is blessed with…
The ultimate aim is to achieve that everlasting passion…To feel the نور (light) entering the breast. 

Don’t be Afraid
Embrace it.

We are Passionate Women.

 

Tree of Life – SHE

SHE.

She, looked at her familiar surroundings, sighed and sat down, cross legged, tired limbs, puffy eyes, ragged skin.
No. This can’t be it.

She, picking up her pen and deep rooted notebook, sighed and starting writing; fragmented thoughts, disjointed puzzles, unanswered questions.
No. This can’t be it.

She, torn between half smiles and those half frozen tears; laughs.
No. This can’t be it.

The tree has deep rooted veins, the golden veins bulge on the cover, a backdrop of long brown winters.

The tree, has branches and leafs.
They begin to fall, scattering the brown earth like stars in the dark sky.
Her golden feathers crumble to the ground.

No. This can’t be it.

She, sits staring at her leafless tree, sighs and puts the pen down.

No. This can’t be it…

The roots don’t budge,
but
The branches still grow,
Seasons change,
Life once more takes ITs form.

She, sitting cross legged, tired to the bone; rejoices and quietly cries.
See, this is IT….

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Miracle

Image

 

I never imagined, to be,

One of those, who preach,

I never thought I would see,

The beauty of your love, so clearly,

I always hoped but never believed,

Miracles were always for the weak.

Now, years later I can perceive,

The irrationality of my old futile creed.

Now, years later, I know I bear witness, to You,

The One and Only.

My everything.

Come My Sweetheart – Rumi

Come On Sweetheart
Lets adore one another
Before there is no one of you and me.

A mirror tells the truth
Look at your grim face,
Brighten up and cast away
Your bitter smile.

A generous friend gives life for a friend
Let’s rise above this animalistic behavior
And be kind to one another.

Once you think of me
Dead and gone
You will make up with me
You will miss me
You may even adore me.

Why be a worshiper of the dead?
Think of me as a goner
Come and make up now.

Since you will come
And throw kisses
At my tombstone later
Why not give them to me now?

This is me
That same person.

I may talk too much
but my heart is silence.
What else can I do?
I am condemned to live this life.

Spite darkens friendships
Why not cast away
Malice from our heart….

Rumi: Come, Come…

I-know-youre-tired-but

“Come, Come,

Whoever you are,

Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.

It doesn’t matter,

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come. Even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.

Come, yet again, Come, Come.” – Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

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