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Since I make ablution with my tears, my prayers are fiery.
When the sound of the adhan reaches the door
of my Mosque, it burns it down
Which way is the Qibla?
I missed my prayers; I need to make them up.
You and I receive a lot of challenges because of these missing
prayers
I wonder if the prayers of those enraptured with
Allah's love are right
You tell me because the ecstatic never knows time and place
Is this the second rakat that I am praying? or is it the fourth?
Which chapter did I recite?
I cannot speak because of excitement.
How can I knock on Allah's door when neither hands nor
heart remain in me? I am not me
I quoted from a book I was reading, here's the full poem:
(I think it captures the purpose of prayer beautifully, but its probably even more beautiful in its original Persian)
When it is time for the evening prayer, everyone lights up his
house and prepares the table, but I find the spirit of the
Beloved in my heart and start to cry out and lament
Since I make ablution with my tears, my prayers are fiery.
When the sound of the adhan reaches the door
of my mosque, it burns it down
Which way is the qibla?
I missed my prayers; I need to make them up.
You and I receive a lot of challenges because of these missing
prayers
I wonder if the prayers of those enraptured with
Allah's love are right
You tell me because the ecstatic never knows time and place
Is this the second rakat that I am praying? or is it the fourth?
Which chapter did I recite?
I cannot speak because of excitement.
How can I knock on Allah's door when neither hands nor
heart remain in me? I am not in me.
You took my hand and heart. O Allah! Nothing remained
of me. At least you give me assurance and trust.
By Allah, I do not know how I pray.
Did I complete the bowing? Who is the imam? I have no
idea.
From now on let me be a shadow in front and behind
every imam so that sometimes I may shrink and prostrate with
the fear of the One who created me...