- in the name of Allah -

sometimes echoes can be like scissors or storms, cutting aside indifferences and apathies to claim a crown no matter how far its been worn. sometimes the cuts are straight and at others jagged, sometimes the metal pulls the fabric so hard it runs the fiber ragged. sometimes the clouds carry hail and at other times rain, sometimes it softly pelts the skin so the message reaches the brain. my sum is but an echo trapt in amber, a waiting patient for his dua to find their answer. 


- in the name of Allah -

I cannot hold it, it cannot be held, 
A coal without heat, a hand without help.

I cannot taste it, it has no flavor, 
A fruit without seed, a sermon without savor.

I cannot see it, it escapes from sight, 
A bulb without filament, a scope without light. 

I cannot hear it, it cannot be heard,
A bird without song, a grief without word. 

I cannot smell it, it cannot be inhaled,
A cinnamon without spice, an ocean without a sail.

Yet all senses kneel, to the heart & what's inside, 
Known as Memory, that which outlives time.