Black butterfly

Yateer

Sab'a Sita Ethnain
Black Butterfly
By Abu Khattab

Float me away with the howling wind,
Away from this place until I've forgotten it all.
Allow me to fly from my demise at hand,
And never let my wings to tire and stall.

Sometimes I wish I were like a butterfly,
A life so short yet so full of meaning.
A struggle at the beginning until it's finally free,
Flying towards the sun that is always beaming.

How many times did you try to piece,
The mosaic of shards that was your life?
When picking up a piece you cut yourself,
Dropping them in anger whenever in strife.

Black butterfly floating in the howling wind,
Your colour a testament to the world out there.
Even the most beautiful are sunk by corruption,
Tainted, shackled with a cold heavy pair.

Those who labeled themselves as your friends,
Were in the end plotting to get you hurt.
A dividing line placed between friend and foe,
Too bad for them that with fire they flirt.

Black butterfly your blackness speaks some truth,
About a world that's painted with poisonous ink.
Seeping through your wings to keep you imprisoned,
But the antidote near - it was closer than you think.

To the Mercy of your Lord you began to fly,
Breaking the current of the howling wind.
Day to night - night to day,
His Mercy on your heart was forever pinned.

Black butterfly floating towards the gardens,
I pause at the gates ready for my turn.
Waiting and waiting to escape my memory,
Waiting to escape the fire that'll burn.

Wanting to float in the gardens of His,
The gates still locked until One Day.
As I wait for my turn I continue to ask,
"Forgive me my Lord" is what I say.

My wings I press against the lock,
Trying to hasten my entry to bliss.
I turn around and I see them fading before me,
The memories that kissed me with a poisonous kiss.

But there'll be a time when I'll begin to float,
With my wings of white that I have to earn.
I ask you my Lord to free my soul,
Forgive me for my sins and allow my heart to turn.

For indeed it is You Who'll free the butterfly,
And bring me out from the destructible brink.
What's done is done - I'm longing for whiteness,
Clear my wings from the poisonous ink.*!

I rest at the gate as I see some birds,
Green in colour who've already gone in.
I wait and I wait but can't wait anymore,
My patience for the gardens is wearing thin.

I look at my wings and they begin to change,
From a solid black to a shade of grey.
Can it be true that I'm earning the Mercy?
Will I be able to pass this gate one day?

My Lord is the One Who will answer me,
When finally my account is brought forth and clear.
Will the black butterfly finally rest in his desire,
In the gardens above where there is no fear?

So I wait for the answer and I wait my turn,
But if I truly want it my Lord will give it to me.
Patience a virtue O hasty black butterfly,
It is within your reach if you could only see...
 
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