Try to get it!

They tell us of shadows behind the curtain,
Hidden hands pulling every string.
Movies and headlines whisper the same lie:
“Someone else is governing.”

They plant the doubt to break the anchor,
To shake the trust, to dim the light,
To make us bow to unseen masters
And forget the One who holds the right.

But look — the sun still rises by decree,
The rain still falls, the seas still turn.
No secret council writes the law of trees,
No hidden board makes the stars burn.

O believer, hold firm to what you know:
The King of kings is not unseen — He is Al-Wakeel.
There is no partner, no son, no birth,
Only Allah — the First, the Last, the Real.

Let them sell their empty theories.
We hold to Tawheed, strong and clear.
The world is run by One alone:
Allah, and there is none beside Him here.

So guard your heart, guard your creed,
Don’t trade certainty for fear.
When hands seem hidden, lift your eyes —
The only Hand that matters is always near.
Allah says

• Fussilat: Verse 53
  سَنُرِيهِمْ آيَاتِنَا فِي الْآفَاقِ وَفِي أَنْفُسِهِمْ حَتَّىٰ يَتَبَيَّنَ لَهُمْ أَنَّهُ الْحَقُّ ۗ أَوَلَمْ يَكْفِ بِرَبِّكَ أَنَّهُ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَيْءٍ شَهِيدٌ
  Soon will We show them our Signs in the (furthest) regions (of the earth), and in their own souls, until it becomes manifest to them that this is the Truth. Is it not enough that thy Lord doth witness all things?
  Chapter 41 Explained in detail سورة فصلت – Fussilat: Verse 54
  أَلَا إِنَّهُمْ فِي مِرْيَةٍ مِنْ لِقَاءِ رَبِّهِمْ ۗ أَلَا إِنَّهُ بِكُلِّ شَيْءٍ مُحِيطٌ
  Ah indeed! Are they in doubt concerning the Meeting with their Lord? Ah indeed! It is He that doth encompass all things

I swore I saw love in the tiger’s stare,
A golden warmth, a silent prayer.
I knelt by the bars with a trusting grin,
Called him “friend” through iron and skin.

I fed him my heart in gentle names,
Saw my own softness mirrored in flames.
“See how he loves me,” I told my fear,
“He knows me. He keeps me near.”

Then Father threw truth into the cage—
A bleating life, a savage page.
The love I saw turned red with need,
As hunger tore through my sweet creed.

And Father’s voice, both low and wise:
“The love you see in the tiger’s eyes
Is nothing but your own love, child—
Reflected back from something wild.”

So many faces I’ve called my own,
Warmed by a light I gave alone.
I saw my kindness in their smile,
Mistook my loyalty for theirs a while.

But some hearts are cages. Some eyes are glass.
They hold what you give, then let it pass.
Not all who meet your gaze with grace
Are keeping a home in that same place.

Now before I kneel, before I trust,
I watch what hunger wakes from dust.
For love is not the glow you lend—
But what remains when mirrors end.

Not in feasts of seven tongues
Where salt and sugar war as one,
But in the date, the bread, the fast—
The Code was written in the past.

One bowl. One loaf. One quiet hour.
The body learns its latent power.
For hunger is no thief or sword,
It’s Heaven’s training, spirit’s guard.

They sold us chaos on a plate—
Three meals to dull, to numb, to sate.
Yet prophets walked with empty hands,
And fed the world on faith, not foreign brands.

So when the earth shakes, shelves run thin,
Remember: famine starts within.
Who masters thirst can master fear—
The Code is simple. The Way is clear.

Eat to live. Fast to rise.
Starve the lie. Let truth suffice.
For in the Code the wise men kept:
Less is light. And light is kept.

On the authority of Abu Karima Al-Miqdam bin Ma’dikarib (may Allah be pleased with him), he said: I heard the Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings be upon him) say: “No human being fills a vessel worse than his stomach. A few morsels are sufficient for the son of Adam to keep him upright. If he must eat more, then one-third should be for his food, one-third for his drink, and one-third for his breath.” Narrated by Al-Tirmidhi, who said: It is a good hadith.

وعن أَبي كَريمَةَ المِقْدامِ بن مَعْدِيكَرِب  قالَ: سمِعتُ رَسُولَ اللَّه ﷺ يقولُ: مَا ملأَ آدمِيٌّ وِعَاءً شَرًّا مِنْ بَطنٍ، بِحَسْبِ ابنِ آدمَ أُكُلاتٌ يُقِمْنَ صُلْبَهُ، فإِنْ كَانَ لا مَحالَةَ فَثلُثٌ لطَعَامِهِ، وثُلُثٌ لِشرابِهِ، وَثُلُثٌ لِنَفَسِهِ رواه الترمذي وقال: حديثٌ حسنٌ.

His voice rings out, both clear and kind,
A call that reaches far and wide,
To heal a plague that blinds the mind—
For minds diseased can deeper wound and hide.

He cried, “Would that my people knew
The state I’m in, the truth I’ve found;
In Paradise I’ve met my Lord,
And welcomed there, on sacred ground.”

I am a man from the city’s edge,
No tribe to shield, no kin to stand,
I came on foot with naught but pledge—
To spread the truth across the land.

I did not care who I appeared to be,
Nor from what place I came to speak;
I sought to raise the word, set minds free,
And for the truth my life I’d give, not seek.

No fear of death, no fear of scorn,
No fear of rashness turned to blow;
I claimed the honor of truth reborn,
To say what needed to be known.

They tried to silence what he said,
To kill the voice that would not bend.
But some truths rise above the dead—
And find their ending without end.

Dedicated to the soul of Dr. Diaa Al-Awadi

We live upon a stage, a play so finely spun,
Each soul assigned a role beneath the selfsame sun.
You wear your part with care, your lines are set, your place,
But heed this truth, my friend, and watch the turn of grace.

When prayer’s call rings out, step from the stage away,
Leave props and costumes there, and bow where you should pray.
For this may be the last, the final bow you make,
Before you stand before the Author who set the take.

When rank is given you, or taken from your hand,
When wealth arrives or slips like sand,
Give thanks to God in both, in gain and in the loss,
For here we’re in a test, not on a throne, nor cross.

We are not here to keep the fleeting and the vain,
We have a higher task, beyond applause and gain.
To play your role with truth, with patience, duty, right,
Before the curtain falls and ends the play of night.

So act your part well, while time is still your own,
Then meet the Director where all true endings are known.

The Four Seasons in One Day

At four in the morning, paintbrush in hand,
Blue on the walls, I barely could stand.
Tired and spinning, but smiling through,
For love made me follow what she wanted to do.

Her mind was a storm, her spirit took flight,
Mania had set her world alight.
To argue or stop would shatter her flame,
So I joined her madness, played the same game.

Next day the friends came, shocked at the sight,
I laughed and said, “She’s an artist of light.
Her wild, bright touch, I was proud to share,
I just helped paint the love that was there.”

But the real test came when the mood turned low,
When darkness fell, and she couldn’t go.
Days in the dark, she couldn’t even rise,
To brush her own hair or meet friendly eyes.

The calls came fast from family and kin,
“Why doesn’t she come? Has pride set in?”
I stood like a wall, took the blame alone,
Said I was lazy, preferred to stay home.

I never spoke of the illness she bore,
Our world is cruel to what it can’t restore.
I promised her pride would never be torn,
So I buried the truth where my silence was sworn.

One night she wept in my arms, broken, low,
“I’m ruining you, making you lie, don’t you know?
Tell them the truth, end all this blame,
Set yourself free from bearing my name.”

I held her face close and said soft and true,
“Most people see seasons a year running through.
But God gave me you, and you’re all four in one,
Spring, summer, fall, winter, in a single sun.
My love stays steady through every part,
Their blame is a medal I wear on my heart.
Your secret’s no burden, it’s what I defend,
A jewel I guard from the world’s dusty end.”

Years of care, and now she stands tall,
Stronger than ever, she faced them all.
In front of the family, she spoke out loud,
Looking at me, she said to the crowd:
“This man bought my worth with a piece of his soul,
He held me in silence and made me whole.
He stood by my absence, asked nothing back,
He carried my weight on a hidden track.”

They clapped, but none knew the reason why,
The secret stayed safe where two hearts lie.
The greatest tale of faithfulness I’ve known,
Kept quiet, sacred, between us alone.

Allah says

يَا بُنَيَّ أَقِمِ الصَّلَاةَ وَأْمُرْ بِالْمَعْرُوفِ وَانْهَ عَنِ الْمُنْكَرِ وَاصْبِرْ عَلَىٰ مَا أَصَابَكَ ۖ إِنَّ ذَٰلِكَ مِنْ عَزْمِ الْأُمُورِ
“O my son! establish regular prayer, enjoin what is just, and forbid what is wrong: and bear with patient constancy whatever betide thee; for this is firmness (of purpose) in (the conduct of) affairs.
Chapter 31 Luqman سورة لقمان

عيد الأضحى عاد مرة أخري
تعظيم شعائر الله من تقوى القلوب
هيا نعظم الشعائر
نطوف حول الكعبة ونسعي بين جبلي الصفا والمروة
لكن لصوص العالم ترامب ونتنياهو وأتباعهم
هم الحاكم الفعلي للعالم
ينهبون مايشاءون من الدول ويسرقونها
وماذا فعل المسلمون من أجل سلام العالم
هل خلصنا العالم من هؤلاء الأشرار
هل لدينا مايكفي من الأسلحة لكي ندافع عن أنفسنا عندما يأتي علينا الدور؟
هل التعليم في بلادنا كافي لمواجهة التطور المذهل في الذكاء الصناعي؟
أصبحنا مكشوفين تماما لأجهزتنا المحمولة
لا نحتاج أن نكتب مانريد على محركات البحث
فلقد أصبح ذاك الكيان المسمى بالذكاء الصناعي يقرأ مانفكر به دون أن ننطق
العالم يسير بسرعة جنونية
هل سنستطيع نحن المسلمون اللحاق بالركب؟
بالطبع لا
أصبحنا غثاء
أعداد كبيرة بدون وعي
إذن ماالحل كي لا نصبح فريسة لهؤلاء اللصوص المدعومين عالميا ومحليا
الحل هو تطهير قلوبنا من النفاق
والتمسك بشرع الله وكتابه
الفهم الصحيح لتعاليم الله
القراءة ثم القراءة ثم الاطلاع
التعلم المستمر مهما كانت الظروف
الدمار آتي لا محالة
مايحدث في غزة الآن سوف يكون مصيرنا المحتوم خلال السنين القادمة
ومن يتق الله يجعل له مخرجا
اللهم ارزقنا التقوي
فقد خابت القلوب
وامتلأت باللامبالاة
وامتلأت بحب الدنيا والخوف من الموت
كل عام ونحن أكثر وعيا وأكثر صحوة
سهير

مابال قارئة الفنجان
أليس لها عنوان
أم أنها قد جاءت من خلف الأزمان
قالوا انها تستعين بشيطان
أعوذ بالله
نجني يا رحمن
أهي دجالة
أم هي ومضة وحي تجوب الأذهان
فمن منا لم يلمح تلك الومضة
فلقد كشف الله لنا الحجب مرات ومرات
أتساءل ما هو الغيب المحجوب
أهو ذاك القدر المحدود
فقراءة فنجان ليست فناً
ولا وحي قلب ودود
ان هذا الا سحر مبين
ومكر تمكره الشياطبن
استعن بالذكر وبالتحصين
فنحن نعيش في زمن التنجيم
زمن أقنعة الطيبين
تتساقط بنور العارفين
سهير
قال تعالي

﴿ وَإِن تُطِعْ أَكْثَرَ مَن فِي الْأَرْضِ يُضِلُّوكَ عَن سَبِيلِ اللَّهِ ۚ إِن يَتَّبِعُونَ إِلَّا الظَّنَّ وَإِنْ هُمْ إِلَّا يَخْرُصُونَ﴾
[ سورة الأنعام: 116]

The Messenger cried, “O Lord, my own
Have left this Qur’an all alone.”
He spoke the truth, and so it stands—
This is the state now in our lands.

Our hearts are heavy, choked with dread,
Weighed down by fears we daily tread.
Distracted minds chase worldly schemes,
Forgetting heaven’s open streams.

The doors of rizq hang high above,
Unseen, yet filled with boundless love.
The code of life lies in Your Word,
Yet we have wandered, lost, unheard.

We made of worry a close friend,
A restless guest that won’t make end.
Alas for servants lost in play,
When every messenger faced dismay.

They scoffed, they mocked, they turned away,
Drowned in false joy, led far astray.
Yet still Your mercy outshines all
The fleeting wealth they hoard and call.

O Allah, mend what’s torn in us,
Take charge of all, don’t leave us thus.
Don’t leave us to ourselves—not even
For one blink’s time, or we’re bereaven.

Without You, Lord, we drift and fall—
You are our hope, our All in All.

Take Me Where the Souls Bloom

Take me where the spirits bloom and rise,
Where pain dissolves beneath the skies,
Where weary hearts begin to sing,
And every longing finds its wing.

Take me where the longing leads,
To the first House for human needs—
The House of God in blessed Mecca,
Where joy pours out in falling tears.

A journey sacred, deep, and bright,
Lifting souls worn down by night.
Take me with you, let me tread
Where Prophet Muhammad’s footsteps led.

Let my steps fall close to his,
And Abu Bakr’s faith and bliss.
Take me where I can draw near
To Al-Bayt Al-Ma’mur, crystal clear—
That House above, in heaven’s dome,
The angels’ everlasting home.

And tell me—when my time is done,
When life on earth is lost and won,
Will skies above release a tear?
Will earth still mourn that I’m not here?

For Kaaba is His house of stone,
Yet God’s true house is not alone
In bricks and walls the world can see—
It lives and breathes inside of me.

So take me there, in heart and soul,
Where love makes wounded spirits whole.