Image credits: Rasa
Chasing it has left me devoid of myself
Who am I? I know not anymore.
Where to turn? What to pursue?
Whom to trust? I can’t discern.
This revolt within me, a fire consuming,
This world of yours O Lord, makes sense- no more.
The conquest of money and status holds no meaning
These ties that bind heighten loneliness,
When you hold the pen, the one that says Kun,
You see my cries, my plea for aid
Your silence, this heart still in turmoil, makes sense- no more
They say relief is close when the struggle is about to end
These sayings make sense- no more
I detest the norms we humans have plunged into
This marriage, that job, the kids and chores
What more? Life’s meaning makes sense- no more
This is not a mere complaint, O Lord,
But a quest to unravel, to understand,
For my mind falters in darkness,
Left to wander in the void.
Patience is running thin, so is my life
If my death accounts worthless
This life all a hologram, mayhem, a chaos
I have lost before even beginning
Blinded, I can’t see the way,
Navigation beyond my grasp
Now I think, am at the brink,
Save me before I sink.
Before this heart drowns in despair,
For now, even faith feels thin.
The Answer.
You ask for purpose?
You question the ties I bound you with,
The circumstances, the resources, the tests?
Don’t you remember? You asked for it. You prayed for it.
Don’t you remember it was you who plunged into dirt?
Who valued 8.1 billion people’s opinions instead of just the One?
Whose criteria of success did you choose? Creation or the Creator?
Who did you look up to in distress? Creation or the Creator?
Who did you credit for your wins? Yourself or the Creator?
You saw life drenching, soul escaping from the body,
What did you learn? Mortality—live only once, so do whatever you want?
Or immortality, that your Lord promised?
What end did you choose? This world as the last stage? Or the next, and the next to come?
Where did you put your trust? In creation that betrays, or in the Creator who is the mightiest?
Whose rule book did you follow? The one who made you, or the ones like you—ignorant?
Didn’t I promise to give you more if you are grateful?
Didn’t I tell you I will give you more reasons to detest if you practice ungratefulness?
What did you choose?
Playing victimhood as your defense armor?
Worrying about yourself, leaving the rest as your mantra?
Being self-sufficient, self-capable, self-made as your title?
Why distress then? Isn’t it all self-inflicted now?
Bowing before the Creator liberated you from bowing before anyone else.
What did you choose? The one Creator, the 8.1 billion, yourself?
Harshness on your tongue, malice in your heart, arrogance in your head.
Playing people on your whims—your agenda, your work.
Manipulation, you call it the art of dealing, tinting the truth.
Upon seeing the oppressed, you live on unaffected.
Oppression up your sleeves, when convenient—you call it justice?
Even confusion in identity, who chose it? Who put it?
You cry you are lost in darkness? Look around.
Are you the victim or the real perpetrator?
There’s still time. Come back.
It’s been long; darkness your home—leave.
Mend your heart, see the truth, make your will strong,
Your intention pure, set your compass right.
Take off the lenses the world gave you, crush them.
Come to Me then, Do what you can, Show Me you care.
My pen is waiting, My Kun is waiting.
Turn back, fueled with faith,
For even if you are at the brink,
I’ll not let you sink.
.
