Poetry

You look at yourself and you find
The pain is just too much to bear
It's shattered your body and mind
And pounded you into despair

Your words don't come out as they used to
Your thoughts are not formed as you like
But know each contender you lose to
Is bracing you for the big fight

Recline on the truth that all things
All come from a singular source
Each joy and each grief that life brings
Is for you intended of course

So give your attention to Him
Who's turned His attention on you
And fill up your heart to the brim
With patience-infused gratitude

There's comfort for you in your tears
So cry up a bountiful stream
And soon you will see your boat nears
The sands on the shores of a dream

Then life as it must be will be
More real than you've ever seen
And in a lush meadow you'll see
Her waiting to meet you - your queen

Salawaat helps the meadow stay green.

Spare me your chivalry
If it means you’ll hold a door open for the lady behind you
Only to ogle her as she walks in

Spare me your chivalry
If it means you’ll help an elder cross the street
But only when it doesn’t dent your schedule or go unnoticed

Spare me your chivalry
If it means you won’t hit a man when he’s down in a brawl
But will cheer the cowardly slaughter of fleeing innocents

Spare me your chivalry
If it means you will let your friend have the last word, well,
Only to go home and give your family hell

All that chivalrous behavior we exhibit
We barter it for attention:
To be known
To be seen
Seen by others but more dangerously
By ourselves

For nothing is more delicious than worshipping
That handsome idol of the self
Moulded with the clay we selected so carefully
From the river banks of our toadying consciousness
Glistening from generous coatings
Of the “it feels good to be good” glaze

It does feel good to be good
And that’s alright
But it’s fickle:
You see, when we change and grow
The idol morphs and scales
There is no telling what we’ll change into
Yet the idol prevails

Let’s turn to the constant deity
Who Ever Was 
Who Ever Will Be
If we can serve to ONLY be seen
By the One our eyes cannot see
Then that may be
The truest brand of chivalry

Then hang the axe around the neck
Of your idol, saying:
He did it

That moment you sit down
And draw out a plan
In the manner and fashion
That only you can

And you set it in motion
With every care
While the horrors of poverty
Hang in the air

Then it all comes together
In days, months or years
As your furnace is fired by
Blood, sweat and tears

So you weather the skies
Through the blue and the gray
Till you taste from the fruit
Of your labor one day

It is here you must pause
And consider my friend
With the wealth you have earned
From the start to the end

All the plans, all the work
All the sweat, all the tears
All the pain and the sacrifice
Over the years

Yes ALL that's a transfer
Of ownership from
Al-Maalik ul-Mulk
Testing if you become

Worthy steward who spends
From the wealth in your care
Or a miser with only 
Destruction to spare