We were sent.
But we forgot.
We were the light
And dimmed to not.
The trust was vast.
The path was clear.
But centuries have left it bare.
These lands—so soft, so kind, so wide—
We passed them all,
But stepped aside.
No call was made.
No truth was shown.
They lived and died
And never known.
I walked alone where forests sleep.
Where bridges arch and moss runs deep.
And felt the weight of all we missed—
A world uncalled,
A world dismissed.
The wind was still.
The stones were cold.
The trees stood watch
Like saints grown old.
I faced the sky.
My voice was thin.
But something deep began within.
Allāhu Akbar—
It tore the air.
And every leaf stood up in prayer.
They had not heard.
Not once. Not near.
But when I called—
They strained to hear.
The earth was raw.
The silence wide.
But in that cry,
It turned. It sighed.
Not with recall—
But something new.
As if the sky had split in two.
And then the peace—
That aching kind
That wraps the limbs
And stills the mind.
The bridge, the trees, the path, the stone—
They knew His name.
And I, alone.
But not with pride.
With quiet shame.
For all we lost.
For why I came.
We ate their bread.
We walked their shore.
But never knocked
On heaven’s door.
They lived with care.
They wept their dead.
But never knew
What God had said.
And I—
I stood with breaking chest
To lead a prayer
In Nature’s nest.
A first, perhaps.
And maybe last.
For all the time
We’ve blindly passed.
The mission sleeps.
The world still turns.
But deep inside,
A longing burns.
We were sent.
But we forgot.
We were the flame—
And now we're not.
In moments like these,
In time and space,
Allah - I wish to know more,
to hold your grace.
Arabic, Quran, Hadiths and more,
How else can I rest,
Still —
Before your shores.
The words, the structure,
I know not yet.
And yes,
That rests heavy upon my chest.
Yet still you grace my heart with light,
You know I’m a soldier,
In your great fight.
So stumble, I will,
In prayer and life.
But towards you,
That’s the path,
I cherish,
And hold tight.
How grateful I am,
To walk this road,
To breathe love and honor
On this path you sowed.
Ali, as I read again and again, I feel as if truth cannot hide itself, it has to be revealed and reveal it does itself. Beautiful