O Son of Nothingness!

O son of nothingness! O you who were brought into being when once you were not even a thing to be mentioned! Death shall seize you suddenly, and you shall have no power to repel it. Time moves continuously—coming and going without pause—and your appointed term shall overtake you without warning. Afflictions are many and come in varied forms. No matter how heavily you equip yourself with armour and shields, no matter how securely you fortify yourself within castles and strongholds, you shall be laid out in a grave—embalmed and shrouded—indistinguishable from slave or master. Beneath the soil you shall be cast, to dwell among the dead, to descend into the realm of ruin. O you who so swiftly vanish and decay!

Do you carry yourself with arrogance, impressed with your own self? Do you swagger in pride and conceit? Do you puff yourself up in boastfulness, adorned with traits of betrayal and malice, marked with the attributes of sin and deceit—handed down to you from generation to generation? Where now is your mother and your father? Where are your forefathers and your kin? Not a single one of your ancestors between you and Adam escaped death or was spared the grasp of fate. Compile the biographies of the dead. Write the chronicles of the fallen. Why such pride? On what basis do you elevate yourself? Have you no shame? Do you suppose that you will last, when soon neither your name nor trace shall remain? Have you forgotten that before long you will be buried in the farthest reaches of the grave? Will you not awaken to your error? Will you not realise the depth of your misguidance?

Is it befitting for a shadow to boast in splendour? Is it proper for a phantom to raise its head in defiance? Are you elated by glad tidings, while forgetting that soon you shall be mourned? Do you feel secure in this life, though it has never remained pure for those before you and will never be so for you? Do you not know that your Lord lies in wait? Your vain whims have toyed with you, and your base cravings have made sport of you—while you remain heedless of the consequences.

Call upon the people of ʿĀd and Thamūd; the kings of Himyar and Nimrod; the People of the Well and those who marched with legions; call upon Pharaoh, the one of tent-pegs; Haman and Korah, descendant of noble lineage; Nizar and Iyad; those who lived in tents and on mountain tops; the lords of Persia and the lands of black soil; the Turks and the Mongols, with their great numbers and mighty weaponry—all of them have drunk from the basin of death. No empire raises its banners except for a few numbered days. Even if they stir up dust to the highest skies, that dust shall soon fall to the ground, trampled underfoot.

Do you take pleasure in jesting and delight in playful banter? Do you love this house of misery that offers no permanence? Are you captivated by this land of affliction and grief, that deceives with false promises? Are you infatuated with this realm of hardship and destitution, which breeds corruption? Do you cling to this world of toil and complaint, where joy scarcely appears before it returns to sorrow? O you who are heedless of the consequences of this worldly life! Do you not realise that your own people will grow weary of you? That even your closest companions will tire of your presence? That your company will be detested?

Know the pettiness of your worth. Your presence and absence are of equal weight. Do you imagine yourself to be without end? You are drowning in the deepest ocean of ignorance. Your desire has risen in joy, while you possess no stability. To what deception have you been turned away? How long will you continue without self-restraint? What prevents you from giving up your delusions? Has the time not yet come for you to repent to the Lord of all the worlds, to turn your soul towards fear of Him, and to join the ranks of the righteous?

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Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6578