O slaves of Allah Almighty!
When you purify yourselves for Salah with Wudu,
Don't only pay heed to your covers.
Pay heed to the filth hidden deep,
Deep Inside of you.
For Allah, The King of all kings,
loves
purified hearts...

a thought diary:

Now the ratio of exhaustion and ambition is just right
Now the need to respond to each stimulus is subdued
How the curtains have cleared between sight and insight
How the walls have crumbled on each lofty feud
————————————————-

All this while, time unwinds with its every revolution
And the axis of the roll is tethered to rest
Whosoever can withstand the decree of absolution
Will remain unperturbed with the purpose of the test
—————————————————-

From the cafe-fed pigeons and the debris-drunken bees
To the mendicants and paupers on the streets of the famed
I do ponder the encounters that happen in your being
Some I know, still there are all the countless and unnamed
—————————————————-

On the ripples in Danube river scribbled with light
The distinct reflection of serene Budapest
And the splendour of adsorbing all dimensions of ‘might’
Till you don’t have to prove yourself to the rest
——————————————————

On your face, I can trace , all the lines of an epic
Every fold is two sided: one gory and one glory
I chose love, all above, for in the maze of theoretic
There are so many ways to tell the same story
—————————————————

It’s what I learn in struggle that I convey in song
What I earn in endurance , I adorn in grace
Thus every gain, with its pain, does truly belong
One has to burn in the soul to light up ones face
————————————————-

You have the same hospitality for all your guests
Whoever loves you more, will perceive more of you
It’s the lived experience that defines the quest
It’s the intent, not content that sanctifies Wudu
—————————————————-

But still I wonder all the loves that embellish your ways
And the promises in your narratives that echoingly roam
the same streets I tread and the same night and days
As I lose myself in you while I’m looking for my home
—————————————————-

Travel is a state of mind, and home, a station of the heart
How far we go is measured from where we start
You’ll see, in the trajectory of an encircling path
Aein, our beginnings and ends are never apart.

©️Arshia.
18.8.18
Budapest

My father passed away on the tenth of march
Many people ask me 'why'
Excellent question.. that I don't know the answer to
Maybe it's just God's will.. and he knows best
But still..

My father passed away on the tenth of march
The year of twenty fourteen
In a mosque nearby
After he had cleansed himself by wudu
Getting ready for the afternoon prayer

My father passed away on the tenth of march
With all these blessings surrounding him
Which occurred the week of spring break
As each year passes, still destroying me slowly
The traumatic aura revolving in the air haunts me

I miss him.

Some people remind me of you
Im writing on my phone
i just got finished making wudu

i feel calm now
Maybe its my period
im acting like the girl
out the book
Who writes to her dead mom

you're not dead
Hopefully
hopefully not after i told you to
so many times

i dont regret a thing
but if you werent dead
id never know
Hopefully youre reading every word i said

You never listen.
You never listen at all.
You never change.

God i want you
So bad

wish you were in my bed
you said you always think about me
Not anymore, huh?

well i think about you

Why didnt you delete your alt account?

I just wanna talk to you.
Go crazy everyday
what else do i have?

Nothing.

and you read everything i write,
But still never listen to me.

I can write to you for centuries
Maybe just
Create an entire account for it

I just wanna talk to you.

Go crazy everyday

what else do i have?

Nothing.

and you read everything i write,
But still never listen to me.