Reminder: The stranger who loses the path of his journey

I was born in Paradise, beside the Lord of all worlds, and it was for me a homeland untouched by decay, a dwelling unchallenged by fear, and a companionship unmarred by solitude. I was accustomed to its bliss, its ease, its shade, and to its perfection, so pure that words could never fully convey it. Then I was told: “Descend to the earth, for there lies your temporary abode and provision for a while, and thereafter you shall return to the abode of delight.”
So I descended, knowing that the journey was decreed, yet heedlessness overcame me, and I was distracted from my first home, the eternal dwelling from which I had begun and to which I was destined to return.
And I am nothing but a stranger cast into a new land, where people are many and the paths hidden; I lose my way even though I am newly acquainted with it. Or like a fledgling bird whose wings have not yet strengthened, I forget the way to my nest each time I take flight. Behold, I have forgotten my journey and my home, and I wander, lost in a foreignness in which the heart finds no repose.
I walk upon this earth as one searching for something lost, yet unaware of what it is, and I grope through the crowd of life seeking a trace of the old covenant, finding only a glimmer that awakens my longing. I see people engrossed in the world and its adornments, content with its fleeting pleasures, as though they had forgotten that beyond this dwelling lies an everlasting abode, and beyond this provision awaits an appointment that cannot be delayed.
Hence I become ever more certain that estrangement is not of place, but of the heart when it forgets; and that being lost is not upon the path, but in the insight that is neglected.
There, I knew tranquillity with certainty, and breathed clarity as a bird breathes its first air. Here, however, veils have multiplied and desires crowded in, so that the near and the distant are confounded. And whenever I incline to take comfort in any portion of this life, a hidden conscience whispers to me: “You are but a passing traveller; make not the road your home, nor the provision your ultimate goal.”
Within me burns a light that does not fade, and a longing that does not cease, reminding me of my origin and my return, and that the journey, however prolonged, shall reach its end. When my chest grows tight, I realise that expansiveness lies in returning; when the burden of existence weighs upon me, I perceive that lightness comes from carrying meaning, not from the abundance of goods. Thus my heart oscillates between heedlessness and remembrance, until I awaken to see that the path has not been erased, only veiled from me by a cloud of forgetfulness.
O Lord of the first dwelling, if I have forgotten, remind me; if I have gone astray, guide me. Make this estrangement the cause of my awakening, so that when the journey ends I may return as I began, knowing my true home, and my soul may find rest in the abode of delight, where there is no more parting, and no more estrangement ever.

(by: Dr Mohammed Akram Nadwi, Oxford, 20 Ramadan 1447)