Eyes Were Created to See You
Eyes behold the smallest specks and towering mountains, they gaze upon bustling cities and desolate ruins, they witness the moon and stars, they stare at the dazzling sun—yet, their thirst remains unquenched, their wonder never ceases. The heavens seem hostile, the earth belongs to strangers, and the entire world appears scattered like dust.
O Creator of the heavens and the earth! O Maker of the moon and the sun! Every gaze searches for You. No existent or non-existent, no perceived or unseen, can bring solace. The eyes seek a sight beyond all sights. They were created only to behold You, and they remain open only to see You.
Why should the breeze of the garden take pride in itself? What remedy can an adorned garden offer to an astonished gaze? The garden itself seems like a wanderer. It is true that flowers of many colours enhance its beauty and their fragrances perfume the air, but it is also true that when they do not see You, they wither. The buds weep, shedding tears until they lose their very sight, while the falling leaves of trees narrate tales of sorrow.
Who will inquire about our sorrow-laden state? The wet monsoons, the radiant nights—these are nothing. What are they? They are mere tales of decline and continuous downfall, stories of non-existence within non-existence. If You are absent, everything is false—darkness and light alike.
Yes, to describe Your attributes surpasses all inquiries. Singing Your praises is a balm for the wounds of the heart. There is a unique pleasure in beholding Your signs, for they point towards You. In these distant, abandoned lands, only Your remembrance keeps us company. We extinguish the light of the moon and stars, kindling instead the lamps of our tears.
The cities and villages are devoid of light. The lush valleys of the mountains have lost their joy. The greenery, the rivers, and the shade of the trees are mere playthings of this lowly world. The glittering brilliance of modern civilisation is nothing but dark and cautionary tales. No friend is truly a friend; no companion is truly a companion. Without You, the heart is forlorn, and even the colours of love seem terrifying. The enchanting beauty of Europe is, in reality, nothing but gloom. The streets here feel alien, the flower-laden paths lead only to thorny valleys. The abodes here are swept by whirlwinds, and to the people of truth, these dwellings appear desolate.
Alas! The garlands of sorrowful melodies do not suit us. The heart of the singer finds no tune appealing. Listen to my tale of sorrow—if You listen, we shall speak endlessly, our tears will never cease, our chests will swell with intoxicating fervour, and the entire atmosphere will become filled with ecstasy.
We search for Your message in the feathers of the mythical Anqa bird. The flowers wither in longing for Your word. Ah! The deprivation of fate, the misfortune of destiny!
The believer, however, is truly fortunate, for he has been gifted Your Book—the radiant Book whose light is drawn from Your Light. Its attribute is the same as the attribute of Your Divine Manifestation. The mountains of Tur crumbled under its weight, and Musa (peace be upon him) fell unconscious upon receiving its radiance. If the luminous rays of Your Book fell upon mountains, they would shatter to dust. In this entire universe, only the faithful believer is the courageous soul who carries Your trust. Every letter of Your divine script is tranquillity for his heart. And why should it not be? For his soul has awaited it since pre-eternity.
You know well that no other sight captivates our gaze. Lift the veil of Your Manifestation. Do not turn away in estrangement. Do not divert Your gaze of mercy. Do not leave us in the hands of others. Seeking from another is a burden of disgrace upon the shoulders of honour.
If You grant Yourself to us, the buds of our hearts will bloom, the wounds of our souls will be healed. Once we behold You, we will never return to this world.
You promise to bestow both worlds upon Your beloved ones. But tell me, what use are both worlds to the one who has attained You? Will any other sight appeal to the eyes once they have witnessed Your unveiled splendour?
[Translated by AI. Original article: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/5832]
, Poetry
