Procrastination

Type.

Delete.

Type.

Delete.

I went to a beautiful mosque in my dream but it's empty of hope. It's empty of love. It's empty of relations. I went to a beautiful school in my dream but I can't see it. I can't see the love. I can't see the wide-eyed kids just asking for more.

More of what?

More innocence?

I can only give pain.

I prostrate in my salah, but I can't see God. It's my way of seeking but never really truly believing.

The pain of missing someone, something, no word is able to comprehend God. My God. He who knows the depth of the pain, waiting for me to make some effort but here I am, trying to make an ounce of effort. I miss really being able to bow down, to my lowest point.

But here it is.

I'm like the tidal waves, push and pull. When I make the effort to be near, He's already there to catch me, then I back down.

God, I want to get near You.