We come here,
Rather He send us,
To this world,
Our transient asylum.
On our arrival,
We loss our memory,
Of the truth, our home,
Our master,
His love for us.
He sends His messengers,
The saints, prophets
From time to time,
To remind us,
About the truth.
We listen to them,
Read their prophecies.
Understand their theories,
Trust them,
Glorify their names.
But in practical life,
We ignore their guidelines,
Hesitate to implement their advises,
Being enslaved
By temporary allurements.
Sarcastically,
We are very serious about piling,
Possessions, pleasures,
More than the necessity
Of this refugee camp.
But we don't ever care,
To possess something,
Some good deeds,
For our beloved master,
To spend in our real home.
rightly said
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