Ya Allah-I call. Out of my soul of souls over an endless strech of misguided and subsided youth. I hurt-a pain deeper than my hearts tears when I cry of a lonely passion, created in the eyes of happiness gone sower. Who do I trust-no o­ne but You. Nothing but You and whom you guide my tired mind to learn your sacred knowledge. It is pure-to me a sipe of creastle clear sunshine dipped in the hearts of forgotten children barried in the winds of dispare. And I pounder over what it all tells of a life o­nce lived-a tale many a time forgotten. And I pray You don’t forget me.
(Insha’Allah)

Taubah Abdul-Ba’eth

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