Strings Of Trance

Life is but a boat for each of us

A boat, floating in a long blue sea.

Some have storms, some have tides

And some stare at the clear water underneath.

Nevertheless, your goal is to wield the fishing rod,

Funny its called a fishing rod,

Because I've seen many get a tub of debris

And drown in their own hubris.

While some get a pot of gold

But only a few know it's worth.

Nevertheless, your goal is to wield the fishing rod

To find your purpose.

In this big old sea,

Each rod has it's own fish

Some hook in the first dip

While others take ages

When I had my fishing rod,

I was clueless

Many punctured their boats,

Brought themselves to ruins

Will I meet the same fate?

Armed with a fishing rod, I set about

To hook my fish, to find my purpose.

I didn't get the first time, or the second time, or the third and fourth

Hope dripping away like melting ice.

Every time I get one, I cherish it, but I knew it's trash,

Until I found the Quran.

Many had it, and many threw it away

It can't be both a treasure and trash?

I didn't throw it away, waited where this will lead.

The Quran, a treasure it is

It went in deeper and deeper, teasing me to look yonder the sea

A trance, where you yearn to retreat your strings,

And pull the weight to see what the rod fetched you.

But also you want to forever sit in that boat,

Let the strings stretch the longer it wishes,

By your treasures weight.

Each foot deeper, each chapter an eye-opener.

And I sit there, in a trance

And that it is when you realize your purpose-

To find the Quran,

Get entranced by its wisdom,

And yearn for the day,

Where the sea engulfs you,

And you dive deep to meet the Author.

That day is when you complete your purpose.

But sadly your life is only your boat,

How will you know what happens beneath you?