بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Fateful decisions fall from the heavens, comets lighting up the night sky, I am but earth, cratered and cracked as long as there is life. I endure without patience, fight without fist, seethe without fury, scream without sound, effortlessly ineffectual, the sum of a man's import, as he's turned back into dust of which he's bred. My Rabb, to Him I have no pleas, no needs, nothing there for me to find but retreat. Shallow graves are best, easiest to dig, no, not my own, but those of what He tests me with. Soon I shall join them, as a being who once lived, soon breath will escape, and lungs cease life to give. There's no grief for he who hoped and fell, such is what humans are, seeking to rise they simply trip and fall. May any who still linger take upon their shoulders, the banner of the struggling hopeful ones, and make their way to their Creator, before dust settles on their shoulders too.