Beware of the times you do good
It comes with a peace as it would
And it fills you with feelings
Delivers you reeling
With joy that you did what you could
But that glee burns a chink in the armor
And the devil does strike where it stings
Then you sweetly impute
All the good that you did
To whatever your intellect brings
Now the meaning I try to convey
Isn’t meant to inhibit the doing
Just know all you do
Is a trial to you
For the Doer is watchfully viewing
Archives for January 2019
Shoveling
The repentant ones know
What to think when they find
Such a volume of snow
On the driveway, but mind
It’s a ploy of the devil
To make you to sigh
Till your hopes all dissolve
In the blink of an eye
But the penitent know
That for every vice
An Astaġfirullāh
On your breath will suffice
So pass on the snowblower
Suit up and start
With your istiġfār shovel
And peace in your heart
Waiting
When the fast slows down
And the night turns to pray
With its children as one
All five moons away
Manner
Consider now “man” an adjective
To mean less a beast and more man
Then take its comparative, “manner”, a proof
That a word comes about by a plan
Dignifying the language of man
Think!
The things that we find mundane
We hear them again and again
Repetitive, boring
And set to inducing
All manners of snoring
Are often all matters decreed
That we may be heedful to heed
What comes into view
Through the lens of tawḥīd