This life is but one long exhausting errand, where we take care of some duties and responsibilities, and right after it ends, right after all the toil is over, we get to go home, where we belong, where He is and where we shall reminisce about it all, saying “oh who thought it would all end so soon? remember how worried we were?”, in-sha’Allah.
Islam is so strange right now, so misunderstood, so deserted in people’s hearts. And some people are as strange as Islam is now. No one wants them, no one gets them and no one hears them. If they say something it’s laughed at, and if they do something it’s discarded or misinterpreted. They are alone. Just like their Prophet once was, up in the mountain that overlooked the world abuzz with eccentricities, or when he went down there with his message and all laughed at him.
But no matter how alone those strangers are, they are not lonely. Nah, far from it. If they were lonely, they’d have perished so long ago to mental collapse or other misfortunes of the heart. They are not lonely. They soldier on, just like their prophet did once. They don’t heed the tide or the wave or the people riding these or dying under those.
They have their eyes fixed on just one thing, while they swim, while they trudge that road, through that errand.
They look forward to that one thing.
A far green garden of bliss..
I wish I was one of those strangers..