On Being a Human Being

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But look at yourself. Your Islam which you wear like clothes is torn and dirty. Your heart is ignorant. Your existence is nothing but trouble and stress. But you put on the airs of a king, holding a book in your hand whose pages are black. While you have no care or love, you imagine that you care and love. Your beloved is only the phantom of this world. Right under your foot is the grave. The hereafter is a step away. Be aware. Now. There is no time.

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