Ya Rahman!
May my life be taken
Not once, but times many
Though hardly worthy
To witness Meem’s beauty
Ya Rahman!
Are you not the most kind
The voice and sight
Of the dumb and the blind?
Why then conceal Your Beloved
From his lovers eager, desperate
Their hearts burn in his love-coal
For a glance of their eyes’ kohl
Ya Rahman!
Excuse my heretic lines
Exhausted am I in love-praise
Expel me not from the faith-tribe.
Oct 16, 2025 | Rabi al-Thani 24, 1447
Standing atop a mountain of mistakes, a bold seeker shamelessly demands the Prophet’s love, relying entirely on the fire of
Jaihoon explores the mystical paradox of the ageless, vibrant soul trapped within the decaying cage of mortality.
Fading stars require long waits. Yet, the Beloved of God transcends time, knowing your name before you even speak.
A blistering critique of moral decay in the society’s elites, and the ultimate certainty of divine or moral justice.