This natter said.
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From many a darkness releases,
For true can it be only when it is shared;
Word, like wind, cuts through you / Withers all but true you
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
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From many a darkness releases,
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Last night I attended a lecture by Shaykh Amin in which he delivered a fresh perspective on the Israa wal Mi’raaj, one through the lens of constant companionship.
What made him to say what he said
When the news of the journey by night
Celebrated on tongues, danced in hearts that were dead
To the songs of rejection and spite;
But what made him do what he did
(This companion we call Al-Siddeeq)
Is a knowledge so subtle, entirely hid
Except to the one bent to seek.
Destined to be standing by our
Most beloved Rasul and Nabi
In a dark little cave in a difficult hour
As hard as an hour could be,
To join him to Yathrib, and there
Through the battles and stretches of peace,
To remain his companion beyond all compare,
With a love never knowing decrease.
And so on the night when the Lord
Took his slave on a mount that was bound
Past the waters the reaches of time cannot ford
Where all matter and space run aground;
It is true that Jibreel could not walk
Past the Lote, that magnificent tree,
It is where none of angel or human may flock
But for our beloved Nabi;
Above, the Nabi with his Lord,
While below was his friend rapt in prayer:
Did The Lord to his worshipping slave so afford
This companion in every affair.
The observation regarding Abu Bakr’s (RA) engagement in worship during the course of the prophetic journey is attributed to Shaykh al-Akbar, Muhyiddin ibn ‘Arabi.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Born of metals, rises, settles,
Beckons undeparted petals
And all when the end is met;
In a caliph’s epithet.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Just give me a balmy day, a sunny sky A stream, a bridge and no reason to be soon A friend with a hand that refuses to stay dry As we scoop up tadpoles in the afternoon I cannot tell what makes me happy more The feel of tadpoles dancing in my hand Or whining and pretending to be sore That we might stay much longer than we planned The coolest thing about our time together Is how we didn't think about the weather When the rain cut short our fun time at the stream There will be places you and I can dream Of things to do if it weren't for the rain If it be with you, it's easy on my brain Alhamdulillah! Till we meet again Alhamdulillah for friendships that remain
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
My mother is heavy, my father is light,
And though you can see me, you can never free me
From where I exist taking all in my sight.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
The prophet of Allah looked down at the grave
Of one who had once been a difficult slave,
He prayed for the soul and then sat on the ground
And planted upon it a sapling he found;
Then pressing his noblest of hands in the earth,
He served his companions a word of good worth:
How well does the tasbeeh of one little plant
Bring peace to a soul in a way the soul can’t!
These words are more precious than they seem to be,
They’re words of a lofty, ingenious Nabi,
So think, for they tell you much more than you think:
The thirst of a seeker survives the first drink.
If what does take root and smiles up at the sun
And sways in the breeze when a shower is done
Can widen the straits of the one in his grave,
Each rustling SubhanAllah helping the slave,
Then how much more worthy the tasbeeh of one
Who speaks and beseeches and weeps in the sun
And seeks a forgiveness for himself before
He seeks a forgiveness for them at the door!
So hear what the Messenger wants us to know,
He spoke for companions who knew he spoke so
And those who his legacy guard and protect,
Bequeathing us treasures that we might reflect.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
I’m given, I’m taken, I’m seldom forsaken,
I can be forgotten, cause pain when I’m lost,
I’m mostly defended whatever the cost,
And often encountered engraved or embossed.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
It’s a sunny bright morning, climbing hotter into higher degrees,
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Strike me to start me,
To end, just depart me,
You need at least two
To carry me through.
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It rises and falls like the snarl of a beast
Whose breath lingers hot on my ear,
A savage determined to render me feast?
The thought of it fills me with fear;
Then even as sorely I pity my plight,
I hear now a whistle, the coos of a child,
Then what sounds like rustle of leaves in the night,
Now guttural calls of the wild.
But when I can bear it no more,
I wake my beloved, who barely does rise
When all of the din dissipates with a roar
And leaves me to wonder if all of this madness
Is noises my brain did devise.