Blackout
When Horror Came to Speak
He came with tales like coiling smoke, With fingers long as funeral notes. His eyes, two bottomless pits of dread, Where lost men fall and never tread. He sat by me — not near, but in, The horror of him not on his skin — But in his breath, in every sound, That reached my soul and spun it 'round.
By Muhammad Abdullah10 months ago in Poets
The Light of Forgiveness. AI-Generated.
1. From Darkness to Light: Amir was once a restless and arrogant young man from a quiet village. He had no connection with prayer or the Quran. His days were spent hanging out with friends, listening to loud music, and wasting time. Whenever the mosque’s muezzin called the adhan (call to prayer), Amir would turn up the volume of his radio to drown it out. His mother, Hamidah, was a beautiful woman. Every night, she would rise for Tahajjud prayer and cry to Allah, making one sincere dua: “O Allah, guide my son. Show him the path of truth.”
By Mohammad Shariful Islam10 months ago in Poets
