Before your love


Shrine of Imam Ali (a.s) Najaf (Irak). Picture taken from Instagram

Ya Mawla,

I wonder if it even fair
To ask myself who I was
If ever anything I was.
Before I met you,
before I loved you.

I wonder how to call this state
When one is just a scattered possibilty,
When a human being is just
The random aggregation
Of barely pulsating dust

I wonder how to call this state
When eyes perceive nothing more
Than a twinkling candle’s light
Fading in the depths
of its existence’s vicinity

I wonder how to call a life
When air means survival
Where water is stagnant
Where love’s fragrance does not exist.

I wonder how to call this existence
When your wings are just an attire
When your cage becomes your world
When flying is a word, unfurling just a sound

I wonder how to call a vein
Whose blood does not circumbulate
Like a pen that does not spiral
Like brush that does not strike

I guess it is not fair
To say that I existed
That my tongue tasted life
Before it whisphered your name

I guess it is not fair
To call this piece of flesh a heart
Before it started beating
Before it met your gaze

And if a bird is a bird
Only when it flies
Just like a wave is alive
Only when it crashes

I guess I was only that which one is,
When one is not, whatever that is

I was Nothing.

I guess I was the space which one takes
When one is not, wherever that is

I was Empty

I guess I was the time which one spends
When one is not, whenever it is

I was Absent


This is what i was,
If ever antyhing I was,
Before I met you,
Before I loved you.


*Peace be upon you,
The uprooter of hidden polytheism,
The distinguished and learned,


The Prince of the Faithful
(*Ziarat Nahya).