This is a short story about you and me,
It starts with a chapter about a beach,
Filled with birds, rocks, sand, and sea,
Summarised in these few lines to teach.
A young curious bird approached me,
I was sitting still cross-legged for hours,
Glancing at the wonders of the vast sea,
He questions about your kind and ours’.
“What part of this beach do you like most?”
“Rocks that are half-below-half- over -the-sea.”
The water is but the temporary life (lost),
The sand is divided preaching the word ‘free’.
Conversely, the rock is made up of sand,
Though united within one solid entity,
Not drowned in this life and left to strand,
Lost and delusional; no purpose nor identity.
And not into worship without a nice rest,
From this temporary life completely away,
For Allah likes to see His blessings stressed,
Thus, my rock is the choice of pray and play.
The curious bird stood still as if a gnome,
Listening to the profound disclosed novel,
It has ended so now you can go home,
Recall, this is only a chapter from a novel.
Saturday, 17thof December 2011