Destiny, I've been told,
favors the brave and the bold--
Our self-will steering the course of our ship
in a sea immersed in Gods waves'
The wind would seem to betray you, as you drift into forlorn Islands, only to find his treasure',
The waves, ferocious, as ever
I tremor, the thought of salvation
Keeps me a float
In a world, heavy as sin, you'd think
It won't be long, before i drown, i sink
But Desinty, i've been told,
Favors the brave and the bold--
How many men have drowned in waters,
Where the torrents of evil neither soften nor quell,
Their vigor as merciless as eternal hell.
But, the Lord watches over the Sea,
Most Sublime and Glorious is He,
Who knows the folly of man?
And knows the reaches of their souls
Casualties of self-love, buried in hearts of coal
in its bottomless pits, lightless, dark, and cold
Destiny, I've been told,
Favours the brave and the bold--
How many a man, Seized by divine light
Martyrs of the soul, Victors of life's fight
Their compasses set toward God,
And so too the course of their flight
Servants of the Most High
The Ever-Living, Ever-Present, Lord of Limitless Might
Their wings, strands, of divine Glory and Praise
Subhanallah as their hearts sore and raise
Destiny, they've been told,
Favors the brave and the bold--
They have recognized the heavens
Are at the core, the nexus of their soul
Nearer indeed, then the blood that pours
Through their veins,
The rise is imminent, for all that does not conform to his will, will ebb and wane
Let all bear witness,
Let the revolution unfold
Destiny you've been told,
Favours the brave and the bold.
[Abbreviated version, of the Spoken Word recording]
3 comments:
Nice work buddy :-)
Hay,
I haven't seen a new poem from you in ages! Don't let anything kill your passion .. I look forward to reading more poems from you Inshallah?
I'll be waiting..
Yes, I have been greedy with my words. I suppose for reasons known to me, of which I am far more sensitive, than to admit. I've shied from sharing. Sadly, its almost like a stigma, though I know it needn't be.
Poetry is an intimate echo of our thoughts, our empathies, our pains and our feelings, for ourselves and even for what stirs within the hearts of others. It is intimate and can be profound, at least to its writers, and sometimes for its reader. Its a journey of meaning and depth for those that sojourn its valleys--but sometimes I feel that its best to keep the pearl in its oyster, as I may envision a pearl, but others may only see a lustrous pebble.
Don't get me wrong, Im not saying my poetry is akin to pearls, but I'm saying I value them, but others may not, and it may hurt to have others misprize my pebbles. Its not fair to those who do enjoy and value them, but like I said, it becomes like a stigma. I suppose I have to realise that it comes with the territory so to speak.
In anycase, many friends have insisted I keep sharing, even if it feels awkward doing so.. So I thank you for encouraging me.
I'll post something in a few minutes, god willing.
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