Assalaamu alaika wa rahmatullahi wa barakaatuh ya Rasul Allah,
You. Are. Beautiful. Your every dream, speech, and act is like an elixir. One that can bring me back to my Adamic potential. They’re deep fixers of my messed up internal states, that drift on their wayward ways away from you, and away from the real me, too. #metoo. But my #metoo moments are self-inflicted, when I delve in wicked lusts for power and control over MY wants and MY goals, over MY life and MY roles… over MY soul.
I am aching.
This path I’ve been taking and petty battles I’ve been waging, engaging myself in preoccupations that have slipping from stations of loving you… of loving you.
I’ve been avoiding this moment, I’m sorry. I’ve travelled so little and so far, see, I need to simplify this. So help me God, I ever settle on this lie of being fine just getting by, without you. So help me God, if ever dare spend another second without caring that my soul beckons out for you.
So… help me, God.
Let me make a mad dash to grab the cup and drink down the elixir, to sink down in this mixer of love of you. Let me switch out my addictions for the only thing that I can’t get enough of – you.
Loving you is my cure to the apparent and obscure diseases that plague me. Loving you is the ransom for my soul I have hamstrung, so save me. Loving you liberates me, to rise above bitter hate that contains me.
Ya RasulAllah, forgive me for my unrefined and scattered thoughts. I know you won’t rebuff me, rather you would love me, regardless. You are there calling me back, even when I’m at my farthest. You are praying for me, when my heart is at its most heartless. You are the beacon of light, when I’m searching for darkness.
You’ve never stopped loving me.