alif—the cycle of existence.

here's how the love of god resides in the heart of a "lost" daughter

i wrote this right after white knuckled faith on the same sleepless night, so this could be considered a part 2 in a way — not that its a prerequisite or anything.

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alif hi aghaaz; the breath before dawn,
alif hi ibteda-o-inteha-e-jahaan

(Alif—the beginning, the breath before dawn.
Alif—the origin and the end of all that’s born.)

the lost son may be your beloved prodigy,
the lost daughter is only the daughter that's lost.

so now as the lost, non-prodigal beti—
the rebellious and raging, always-in-her-room beti,
i drown—unable to breathe, unable to feel,
searching for answers, can’t find them in between.

(Beti = daughter, in the Urdu language)

i'm walking right through this field of fire;
with burning feet, and my heightened desire.
through the storms of the sea — I might never find ease,
but with the thread of hope, and my trembling knees.

now as my soul embarks, becoming undone,
listening to the whispers of qalb-e-naqshband;
nazar bar qadam, safar dar watan,
khalwat dar anjuman, naam e alif — tu yaad kard?

(Qalb-e-Naqshband: the heart aligned with the Naqshbandi sufi path— marked by silence, remembrance, and deep spiritual connection.)

TRANSLATION:

now as my soul embarks, becoming undone—
listening to the whispers of the Naqshbandi heart.
eyes glued to my own steps, a journey within my homeland.
I am alone in every crowd.
the name Alif begins to ascend—
do you remember Him, again and again?

har aahat ko meri — ek pukaar tu samajh,
karwat mein chupa raat bhar; meray firaaq ka safar,
chaaro taraf hai tere, noor-e-wujood ki lehar
khuwabon mein jaltey roz hain, tere zikr kay khaasay shehar.

(Let every whisper echo as my plea.
Each turn I take during the night
hides the journey of my longing.
Your presence glows in waves around me,
and in my dreams—quite regularly—
burn the cities of your name, endlessly.)

been chasing the world in its fleeting race—
the pleasure, the praise, a hollow space.
yet through Alif, I found my place,
beyond the earth, beyond its birth.

tha naam-e-alif hi meri inteha,
insaan aur Khuda mein faqat yehi fasla,
Alif; the flaming aatish-e-ishq
Alif; the taming raaz-e-ishq.

(It was Alif—my final destination,
the lone divide between man and Divine.
Alif—the fire that love ignites,
Alif—the secret where love finds light.)

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here’s a playlist that’s been on repeat (specially while writing and editing this draft).

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i do not support the notion of modern sufism and the vulgarity brought upon islam in the name of love for Allah. this is about what sufism ACTUALLY is, and what the idea is all about.

on a side note, i’m no shams of tabriz so pardon me for any visible gaps in my knowledge regarding the matter. JazakAllah.

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also, i saw Zoha and Abdullah talk about how translation kills the spirit of urdu language and i couldn’t possibly agree more. translating some of the verses here was one hell of a nuisance to say the least.

khair, i still tried to do that while keeping the composure of the poem and i hope and pray to Allah that my readers still find it to be in good shape.