Maybe this is just a utopia of heaven, and that life should always be filled with love. The chant sounded so pure, like schoolchildren marching in front of the gate, shouting happily expressing the deepest heartfelt, the innocent expression of the children that really thrilled the heart.
But, that’s not entirely true.
And (sometimes) we must surrender accept (some) bad luck as destiny. And (maybe) there is no interpretation of the word that will speak properly, when the tongue seems to refuse to say when there is much to say.
And (apparently) the suffering of the soul does not accumulate as we age. There is a faded pride, a thinned spirit, like a river that is so swift and terrible in the upstream, then absorbed and lost in the downstream.
(Surely) every human has several hidden stories, that in fact, life is able to make up for other impurities. Bitter but ironic, surrender also keeps the passion. He who is lonely, isolated among passersby, prepare different maps, other times, though not always supported. There is a longing, which is expected to present virtue.
(Maybe) the riveting is not always fascinating.
When stunned to feel feelings, feelings that have long never come back. Emptiness and loss invite mystery. In the vast perfect whiteness, make contemplation, what is life (like) in that vacuous ocean, relative.
Indeed, every remaining step is history. Behind the silence there is a poem, in motion there is dhikr. As dhikr-dhikr begins slowly, eyes slowly closed, then his tongue tired of his sleeping spirit stops.
However, all humans must (have) had a problem.
And (maybe) only in misery and know misery. The greatness of the soul is not a pride. And (always) a morning after rain will be very refreshing. Hope for the belief of striving to be faithful to the dream, this is a madness that makes humans understand the value of humanity.
Bait Al Hikmah, Ashura Day, 10 Muharram 1435 H (coinciding December 13, 2013)
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