I am the servant of the Qur'an as long as I have life. I am the dust on the path of Muhammad, the Chosen One.

You are the root of heaven, the morning star, the bright moon, the house of endless Love

Rush out in the rain to be soaked with the sky.

The morning wind spreads its fresh smell. We must get up and take that in, that wind that lets us live. Breathe before it's gone.

There is no room for hypocrisy. Why use bitter soup for healing when sweet water is everywhere?

They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual? They wonder about Solomon and all his wives. In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul and you are that. But we have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone.

Why should I be weary when every cell of my body is bursting with life?