God bless you!
Sahand Iranmehr
Oh God! Oh, in your name, what red and black gods, and you, but you are patient over all this blood, over all this madness.
You are with people, the promise is sometimes called “destiny”. A night when a merciful breeze blows from the world above, and you said that a person should try to be in the path of this breeze on such a night. By God, they have turned the path of your breeze into a wind of poisons with sabaha, sajjadah, zubibah, and agate, and asceticism has become such a commodity of the market. They have made themselves that there is no hope for mercy.
O Almighty God, O God, whose oath is either on the spark of the hoof of maned horses on the black stone throne, or on the thin body of the pen, now, blow the wind like a storm that must be plagued by a thousand gods on this earth. Gods of anger, Gods of possible shrinking, Gods who are displeased with the complicity of the obligated man, the rightful man.
O God, the night of descent, the night of destiny. Tell me, will it be my destiny that in your name, they will make a person pray to a place where they don’t talk about heaven and hope for a place where they don’t kiss hell and make love? has it been
Oh God, the gods don’t allow you to speak, tell me, will a breeze blow from that distant throne on this carpet of blood and blood behind this mystery and behind this night of heavy longing eyelids? Will a knot be untied from this tangled tangle? Will a ray from that unfinished source fall on this accursed night?
Oh God of power, in the fate of us believers who tremble at our faith, do not place the wires of the breast fire, nor those streams of honey, nor those angels who are standing in line to be the embodiment of the sultan’s royal court. Put your mercy or your compassionate hands so that we may be freed from angry gods who know nothing but takfir and ta’zeer and get used to your godliness.
The God of pen, the God of writing and color (Sibgha Allah and I am the best of Allah, the God of words, the God who does not take revenge on a person like this).
O Almighty God, speak, we are not able to understand the language of signs and gestures, we are not able to recognize you among all these gods who stand before us and gnash their teeth.
Oh God of power, O flickering light of the dark night in the eyes of those who are terrified, find us and save us, not from the fire that comes from the believers themselves, from those who shed blood for you, from those who recite sermons in your name and blaspheme for you.
Oh God, I wish you would speak, I wish you were angered by your fake clients, I wish you would announce your mercy with your earthly steps instead of standing on the throne, Al-Ghut Al-Ghut from your silence, from your patience, from all the stories that God is telling. Pollen is drawn.
Beg, O Allah, for the rights of man, for the rights of people whose destiny is to live in the liver, for the rights of those who are in such a state that they ask for compensation at the door of your house, for the rights of those trapped in the cage of pain, in the cruel thorn of life, in the market of cunning. Gods who deny each other. In the explosion of interpreted words. Put in our destiny something of the kind of breathing, of the blue sky and the green earth, of not being afraid to say: I love you.
Beg, O Allah, from the evil of the illusion that God has become
“And some
make up your mind
They took it as a god.
Shams articles
#night_text
#Ghadr night
@Sahandiranmehr
This post is written by monese_ghamgosar