Tahajjud

The night descends,
And slumber strengthens;
The world quietens,
And darkness deepens.

The hour strikes quite past midnight,
With no stirring within sight;
Then ensues the epic fight,
To escape darkness and capture light.

The soul stirs awakened by the call,
From deep within the subconscious mind;
Sleep is beloved, but a stronger love
Pulls it constantly, opening the blinds.

Tahajjud, the most blessed hour of the day,
Allah, the Almighty, Most Glorified descends.
Waiting for His creation, ready to give,
‘Who shall ask Me?’ He calls from the lowest of heavens.

The closest the Lord is to us at this hour,
Never in need of His slaves He is;
But we are forever dependent on Him,
Yet, knowingly we are ignorant of this bliss.

The purified air; a cool breeze blows,
The soul wins the battle and awakens;
Would it be befitting to neglect the call
Of the Creator of the earth and the heavens?

Two units of prayer is at least
Enough to grasp the mighty reward,
Where would you find the solitude
Of such serenity to cry out to your Lord?

He listens and He responds by His wisdom and will,
You fight, you rise, purify and stand still.
He shall give, bless and all voids He shall fill,
You try, and try, and drag yourself uphill.

The Lord never goes against His word;
‘Who will call on Me so that I respond to him?’
Blessed are the souls that rise during night’s last third;
Our Lord! We beseech You to make us amongst them.

Written by: Saadia
Edited by: The Editorial Team
© The Islamic Reflections Blog