High Aim To Paradise

The beauty of existence,
 Is remembrance of Almighty.

Then life becomes pure,
With His guidance of light.

And the soul becomes assured,
With His obedience.

Then happiness reaches,
At its utmost peak.

A heart full of passion,
For its Lord.

Which loves to satisfy Him,
 And to meet him.

Keeps returning,
To the sublimity of prayer.

For him; it’s his home,
And all that he wants.

Not any amusement,
Can divert him from his march.

Nor collecting wealth,
Can blind his eyes.

When the Caller,
 Calls towards success.

You see him,
Walk towards it; answering the call.

Whispering: “O’ my Lord,
O’ my forgiver of sins.

Your pardon is what I seek,
And nothing else.

And tears that drip,
On your book.

By which Almighty,
Removes the sins.

That’s how,
A sound heart should beat.

Towards Lord,
It always keeps returning.

How happy is he,
Who has a high aim?

To paradise,
In the highest of heavens.