“
It is not true that if we had true faith we would not be sad. Prophets (as), and righteous people experienced a great deal of sadness. The Quran is full of stories in which the central theme is sadness. Sadness is a reality of life. The Quran is not there to eliminate sadness, but to navigate it. Sadness is one of the tests of life, just as happiness, and anger are tests.
mimblexwimble:
quransalahandrelapse:
Have you ever wondered if any of the blogs you follow/interact with are actually run by jinn?
that’s probably what a jinn would post to throw off suspicion
“
To speak ill of anyone is to speak ill of yourself.
loohn:
❋ Yasmeen and Aladeen instead of aladdin and jasmin ❋
prisonofself:
Kindness and patience are the things
I wish to be most abundantly fluent in.
However, you make this very difficult.
To begin,
I will not forget your spitefulness.
I can forgive, but I will not forget.
I wouldn’t expect either from you.
Hopefully we both grow in the interim,
although I will not count on you
ever smiling my way again.
We all seem to think that we, ourselves, are the only ones
who suffer.
I was always more likely to be left alone with a pen.
My love is different from yours.
Mine didn’t meet your expectations,
but unlike yours, mine will probably never end.
orage:
There is an ink stain
on my white bedsheet
left by a pen I’d used to scribble you a note
sometime after midnight
when the dreams and suffering
built to a scream that wouldn’t come
and I could wash it a hundred times
or cut it out
but it’ll never be the same again
nothing will ever be the same again.
“
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.
“
I did not suffer, my love,
I was only waiting for you.
You had to change heart
and vision
after having touched the deep
sea zone that my breast gave to you.
You had to leave the water
pure as a drop raised
by a night wave.
“
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
