Ramadan

Ramadan

Ramadan is not merely a moment in time—it is a divine radiance, an eternal light stretching across infinity, with neither beginning nor end. Souls align in the sanctity of fasting, where hunger becomes ascension, thirst becomes liberation, and every passing moment is an open gateway to boundless mercy.

A whisper calls to the hearts before it is heard, words are spoken without a sound, and the secret is but a shadow of what has never been. Doors widen for those who pass through in spirit. Everything is erased before it is written. Tahajjud is a silent anticipation of an unseen meeting, Suhoor is a promise of dawn overflowing with light, and Iftar is the union of earth and sky, where the boundaries between creation and Creator dissolve.

Prayers hang in the breaths of the night, destinies are inscribed upon the scrolls of fate, and souls stand in eternal prostration. The Nights of Decree gleam with a radiance seen only by those whose spirits have awakened in the kingdom of the unseen.

Words are read before they are written, expression dissolves into light before tongues can utter it, and letters shimmer into perception before they take form. Silence itself becomes a hidden hymn of devotion. The gates remain open to those who seek, and whispered truths are gifted to the hearts that embrace vision. Nothingness is fullness. Existence is an illumination between reality and divinity. In a single moment stretched between the unseen and the present, destinies are rewritten.

Prayer begins but never truly ends. Between prostration and standing, spirits overflow. The worshiper ascends, never to return. Existence itself melts in the ecstasy of remembrance, and time fades with the final bow. There is no dawn, no sunset, no past, no future—only an endless moment bathed in light.

Every prostration extends into radiance. Every whispered invocation vanishes into the unseen. Every illumination is a rebirth, and every birth is a new beginning.

Ramadan is an eternal light that never fades, a renewal that never ceases. The light remains. The silence is full. The secret is woven into every prostration, every whisper, every revelation. And with every return, it begins anew… Or perhaps, it never truly ended.

~Firas Alwaily