Even though it was terrific to be born in an age where comic-fiction, robots and

even shiny white spaceships were coming true, it was odd how the human spirit
still seemed as deep and mysterious as the vastly uncharted universe itself – and
equally as borderless. So, setting out with great hope to find the secret source of
happiness and success, I began my journey to the centre of the unknown. There
were certainly lots of puzzles to solve.

Like a lot of kids, I had many questions that could not be easily answered.
Looking enquiringly around at this wild new world into which I had landed, the
road of life was obviously not without certain pitfalls and dangers; the Second
World War had just ended and millions of people had been killed - but for what?
Sometimes, staring out of the window into the vastness of the deep black night I
would wonder, 'Where does the sky end?' The thought of death frightened me.
'What came afterwards?' My mind could not penetrate beyond the veil of
darkness. Was I alone?

"In the blackness of the night"

In the blackness of the night
I seem to wander endlessly
With a hope burning out deep inside
I'm a fugitive; community has driven me out
For this bad, bad world I’m beginning to doubt
I'm alone and there is no one by my side
In the blackness of the night
I see a shadow passing by
From the heels of an old soldier boy.
There's no compromising
And his eyes are black as the sky
For this bad, bad world he is going to die.
He's alone and there is no one by his side
In the blackness of the night
I see a sparkle of a star
From the sweet silver tear of a child
And she's clutching at a photograph of long, long ago
When her parents were happy she was too young to know
She's alone and there is no one by her side
I'm alone and there is no one by my side
In the blackness of the night
I seem to wander endlessly
With a hope burning out deep inside
I'm a fugitive; community has driven me out
For this bad, bad world I’m beginning to doubt
I'm alone, and there is no one by my side
BLACKNESS OF THE NIGHT

But now behold, in the quick forge, and working house of thought, how London
doth pour out her citizens
(William Shakespeare)

Like galaxies, bright and sparkling with life, for me, it was like that being born at
the heart of London’s Theatre district, the West End, a sort of ‘fantasy land’ full of
coffee bars, shops, theatres and cinemas. Observing the world was like looking
through a store window, glittering with stardust. At one end of my road stood
Piccadilly’s Eros, a symbol of that whirling, colourful scene of vibrant activity.
Opportunities were all around me.

Perhaps, like most new-borns starting out in life, I felt I was the centre of the
universe. But there were serious problems facing me. My identity was still rather
unclear: my Father was from Cyprus, my Mother was from Sweden, and our
dominant culture at home was British. To add to that, my mother was originally
from a Baptist background, my Father was Greek Orthodox, and I went to a local
Roman Catholic School in Drury Lane. So I was forced very early on to be open-
minded.

I remember looking at the choices given to me. Religion was constantly making
me feel guilty, warning me about immorality and dangers of this fleshly life. These
were represented in clear pictorial terms by the Devil, depicted with two horns;
the temptation of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit; and Jesus suffering on
the Cross, representing the key to salvation. But balancing those kinds of fearful
images with the zappy, fun-filled entertainment that was taking place outside the
doors of the Church, well…the centre of the universe for me was not in Religion -
it was probably closer to the city streets and arcades.

"Lovely city when do you laugh?"

Lovely city, when do you laugh?
Stoney people, what do you have?
Well, you ride around on a bright shiny cloud
And you think that you've found true happiness
There's no method in your mind
And your tempers are kind
Is it too much to ask to give it a rest?
Lovely city, when do you laugh?
Stoney people, what do you have?
I'm a part of you, you don't wanna be
I'm an unexpected visitor who's dropped in for tea
But I’m not so low you don't even know that I’m here
You can't even see
Lovely city, when do you laugh?
Stoney people, what do you have?
LOVELY CITY (WHEN DO YOU LAUGH?)

My father was a hard-working man; at the end of every day, he would stand at
the café’s old baroque till, counting the pounds, pennies and halfpennies. He
taught us the value of having enough food on the table and discouraged waste.
Dad had come a long way from his native village, Tala, situated on a hill
overlooking the ancient coastal city of Paphos in Southern Cyprus. He grew up in
a household where even a pair of shoes was considered a luxury, but my father
was never ashamed of his humble background. 'Money doesn't grow on trees!'
he never tired of reminding us.

Dad gave me a job in the Restaurant after school as a waiter, so I learnt to earn
my pocket money from the tips given by customers. It was also here that I first
realised - like my father must have done - that serving the public well can often
be highly rewarding.

“And they've been working all day, all day, all day!”
Up at eight, you can't be late
For Matthew & son, he won't wait.
Watch them run down to platform one
And the eight-thirty train to Matthew & son.
Matthew & son, the work's never done,
there's always something new.
The files in your head, you take them to bed,
you're never ever through.
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
There's a five-minute break and that's all you take,
For a cup of cold coffee and a piece of cake.
Matthew & son, the work's never done,
there's always something new.
The files in your head, you take them to bed,
you're never ever through.
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
He's got people who've been working for fifty years
No one asks for more money cuz nobody cares
Even though they're pretty low and their rent's in arrears
Matthew & son, Matthew & son,
Matthew & son, Matthew & son,
And they've been working all day, all day, all day!
MATTHEW & SON

Rise above time and space, pass by the world, and be yourself your own world.
(Shabistari)

My best friend, Andy, and I would often play together around the bombed ruins
that littered parts of the city, frequently strewn with broken glass, mud and
smashed bricks. But our favourite escapade was to go out late evenings and
dangerously scale the local buildings, climbing high up onto the rooftops. From
those heights we'd gaze at the noisy city below, undeclared secret champions of
London's skyline.

Everything in this society was geared towards 'making it'. The American image of
the good life was projected everywhere: films and television were just flooding in.
The emphasis was to be on top: get rich, be young, healthy, wealthy and street-
wise. Indeed I was - and roof-wise as well! I wanted to be an artist, a cartoonist.
Then I found out that Van Gogh, one of my favourite painters, died poor and
earless, and I realised that perhaps this wasn’t quite the life for me. There was a
need for something a little bit more instant – a fast track.

Suddenly there came the big music boom of Merseyside and the Beatles - British
Pop had arrived. Gravity had shifted; it was now in U.K. Suddenly there was a big
window of opportunity for us youngsters. So I picked up a guitar, chose the name
Cat Stevens, and started writing. It wasn't long before I had my first couple of hit
records; my name and photo was splashed all over the media and I was on the
road - at the grand old age of eighteen!

“The view from the top can be oh, so very lonely?”

The view from the top can be oh so very lonely
And you can be missing such a lot that could be yours
Why can't I stop forgetting myself?
Why am I always trying to be like somebody else
Why can't I love you?
Why bother flying high above you
I know where you are
The view from the top can be oh so very lonely
And you can be missin' such a lot that could be yours
And who's going to miss me?
There’ll only be myself to blame
You know I'd love to hold you tight
And love you all the night
But I don't even know my name
Why can't I stop forgetting myself?
Why am I always trying to be like somebody else?
Why can't I love you?
Why bother flying high above you
I know where you are
The view from the top can be oh so very lonely
And you can be missin' such a lot that could be yours
THE VIEW FROM THE TOP
I was now supposed to be one of the glamorous elite, cheerfully enjoying the
‘high life’. The public expected me to live up to this image so resorting to
intoxicants was the only way for me to overcome my insecurity and shyness. I
seriously lost control: staying up late, drinking, partying, smoking endless
cigarettes. Within a year I found myself in hospital lying on my back sick with
Tuberculosis. The pop business was whizzing past me and I was left there to
think: 'What happened?'

Soon I became aware of my own mortality and the inevitability of death. Lying
there, in a Sussex hospital deep in the country, surrounded by doctors, a lot of
important questions came into my mind. That was a very important stage of my
life. At that time there was a great interest in things eastern, things
transcendental: so I turned towards Peace and Flower Power. Somebody had
given me a copy of a Buddhist book called 'The Secret Path'. That was the
beginning of my ardent search for answers - clear answers, about the meaning of
our existence and where it was all leading.

I started meditating; and so the centre of the universe at that time was levitating
somewhere around the proximity of my belly button. I covered all the mirrors in
my hospital room with paper and tried to forget the outwardness of this world and
focus on my inner self. It wasn’t long before I had grown a beard.

"There’s so much left to know"

Well I left my happy home
to see what I could find out
I left my folk and friends
with the aim to clear my mind out
Well I hit the rowdy road and many kinds I met there
Many stories told me of the way to get there
So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
There's so much left to know,
And I’m on the road to find out
Well in the end I’ll know, but on the way I wonder
Through descending snow,
And through the frost and thunder
I listen to the wind come howl,
Telling me I have to hurry
I listen to the robin's song saying not to worry
So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
There's so much left to know,
And I’m on the road to Findout
Then I found myself alone; hopin' someone would miss me
Thinking about my home, and the last woman to kiss me, kiss me
But sometimes you have to moan
When nothing seems to suit your
But nevertheless you know you're locked towards the future
So on and on you go, the seconds tick the time out
There's so much left to know,
And I’m on the road to Findout
Then I found my head one day when I wasn't even trying
And here I have to say, 'cause there is no use in lying, lying
Yes the answer lies within, so why not take a look now?
Kick out the devil's sin, pick up, pick up a good book now
ON THE ROAD TO FIND OUT

The world is a place of transition, full of examples; be pilgrims therein, and take
warning from the traces of those that have gone before.
(Jesus Christ)

After that period of convalescence and regaining my health, I came back to

writing. A lot of my songs were now much more reflective and deeply
personalised - less ‘poppy’. I’d left the days of ‘Here Comes My Baby’ and was
now looking for that mystic peace. The kind of songs I was writing about were
questions that remained with me and which were persistently knocking at my
conscience. I started to design my own album covers, painting mostly in the
eastern European style of the naive artists. There were various styles and
techniques but essentially, I was more concerned with the painting of words and
the messages they were giving out.
This was just beginning of my search to discover the conscious self within me.
Like a newborn, my soul was thirsty for the primary milk of understanding.

“I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul”

I listen to the wind
To the wind of my soul
Where I’ll end up well I think,
Only god really knows
I've sat upon the setting sun
But never, never never never
I never wanted water once
No, never, never, never
I listen to my words but
They fall far below
I let my music take me where
My heart wants to go
I swam upon the devil's lake
But never, never, never, never,
I'll never make the same mistake
No, never, never, never
THE WIND

Those who have once begun their heavenward pilgrimage may not go down
again to darkness and the journey beneath the earth, but they live in light always.
(Plato)

My second career took off in a way we never expected, especially in the States.
This happened at a time when there was a broad appreciation for more gentle,
reflective songs. These were the blossoming 70's, and the whole thing suddenly
skyrocketed. Throughout the whole experience, one of the most important
aspects - emphasised in my lyrics, particularly - was a sense of ‘journey’.

Religious images were still very strong in my mind. I knew there was a difference
between right and wrong, but was passionately opposed to ritual and dogma; I
didn’t like the idea of being told exactly what to do and I was looking for a more
flexible, spiritual way. Then I wrote ‘Peace Train’. Where it would actually end
up? No one knew. The train was just rolling on ‘the edge of darkness’. That was
the peace movement; the spiritual track many of my generation and I was on.

“Peace train, sounding louder”

Now I’ve been happy lately,
Thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun
Oh I’ve been smiling lately,
dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be, some day it's going to come
Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again
Now I’ve been smiling lately,
thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be, something good has begun
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on now peace train
Get your bags together; go bring your good friends too
Cause it's getting nearer, it soon will be with you
Now come and join the living, it's not so far from you
And it's getting nearer; soon it will all be true
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train
Now I’ve been crying lately,
thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating, why can't we live in bliss?
Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again
Oh peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on now peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on, come on, come on!
Yes come on peace train
Yes it’s the peace train
Come on now peace train
O Peace train
PEACE TRAIN

I started studying different religions: I looked into Zen Buddhism, Hinduism and
other forms of eastern mysticism. As time went on I decided to look back into my
Greek heritage and came across Pythagoras. Perhaps, I suspected, he had the
right answer and everything can be worked out through some formula; it is all just
one amazing mathematical puzzle. After all, scientists always looked for
correlations and sequences to explain and predict events in the world of
existence.

A simple nomad was once asked, “What is the evidence of the existence of a
Supreme Being?” He answered, “Droppings indicate the existence of camels;
footprints are evidences of a walker; and yet when a heaven with constellations
and an earth with mountain passes is presented before us, is this not evidence of
an Exalted and All-Powerful God?” There are indications everywhere; the truth
might be screaming out, but the noise of daily life makes it difficult to hear.

I’d looked at Astrology; and threw the I-Ching, everything that you’d expect from
those kinds of days and that kind of era. But I still wasn’t satisfied; there were still
major doubts. Later I came in touch with Sufism and read some poems of the
Muslim poet, Rumi:

Hearken to this Reed forlorn,

Breathing, even since ‘twas torn
From its rushy bed, a strain
Of impassioned love and pain
“The secret of my song, though near,
None can see and none can hear.
Oh, for a friend to know the sign
And mingle all his soul with mine!
‘Tis the flame of Love that fired me,
‘Tis the wine of Love inspired me.
Woudst thou learn how lovers bleed,
Hearken, hearken to the Reed!”
( Jalaluddin Rumi)

I was very impressed, but still wasn’t there. In a rather strange way, I was trying
to find out the truth and shrink my ego whilst still being projected as an icon.
That, of course, wasn't easy. But music was clearly illustrating my journey.
Think that you suffer a great punishment when you obtain the object of corporeal
desire; for the attainment of such objects never satisfies desire.
(Sextus, the Pythagorean)

One of the most dominant views of man is the material view. The motto of this
concept is ‘Eat, drink and be merry.’ The problem was that I had eaten, I had
drunk – but still wasn’t merry.

Living a fairly recluse existence; after playing to 40,000 fans in massive sports
stadiums, I would return to a hotel room or fly back to my bare, unfurnished flat in
Rio. The more success I achieved, the more I tried to hide myself away,
frightened of losing that most precious gift, that mysterious lamp that was guiding
me along the unseen path.

In Rio I lived alone, unable to even converse with the lady who cooked and kept
the place clean; she only spoke Portuguese. I really felt isolated and it hurt for a
long time, recalling the loneliness back in the beginning when I was trying to be
Cat Stevens – the Star! The guy that was incredibly famous, lucky and wrote
smart things. But basically, I still hadn’t discovered who I was and my earth-time
was running out.

"You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while"

Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy's best jeans
Denim Blue fading up to the sky
And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will
You know they never will
And the patches make the goodbye harder still
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind
And if you want this world to see a better day
Will you carry the words of love with you
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven
And though you want to last forever
You know you never will
You know you never will
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
OH VERY YOUNG

Hark, O drop, give thyself up without repenting, that in recompense for the drop
thou mayst gain the ocean.
(Jalaluddin Rumi)

One of the incidents which happened to me turned out to be a major turning

point, although I didn't realise it at the time. I was somewhere in Malibu, which is
in the Los Angeles area, the famous strip of beach where millionaires live. I was
at the house of my record chief, Jerry Moss, and decided to take a dip in the
ocean that particular day. Unknown to me, of course, this was a very dangerous
time to go for a swim. I didn't realise when I looked out that there was nobody
else around in the sea that day. Nevertheless, I went in. After swimming for a
while, I’d had enough and tried to return back to the beach. That was when I
realised this was the wrong time to go swimming. I felt the current moving me out
and away from the shore. My body was absolutely powerless. I saw my manager
standing there thinking everything was all right, but I couldn’t communicate to
him. Finally, in a split second, I realised this may be the end; with no help in sight
I shouted out, "O God, if you save me, I'll work for you!" and at that moment, a
wave came from behind me and pushed me forward. Suddenly, with all the
energy that I needed, I was swimming back to land and within a few minutes, I
was there: safe and alive. That was a moment of truth.

Each day mankind nervously discovers a new secret in the structure of material
universe: another clue to the ever-enlarging picture of life; yet another
confirmation indicating the existence of Unseen Intelligence behind the intricately
mysterious worlds and galaxies he observes. Nevertheless, each day man is
easily upset by little incidents beyond his control, he still feels hurt if someone
pushes him; human weaknesses have not changed in the slightest. The ultimate
mystery remains; the question of death evades man’s logic and he is left waiting
at the station without so much as a timetable.

“Rivalry in worldly increase distracts you

Until you visit the graves.
Nay, but you will come to know!
Nay, but again you will come to know!
Nay, would that you knew with certainty
Of knowledge… "
(The Qur'an, Al Takathur)

And then that amazing thing happened. My elder brother visited Jerusalem; he
bravely went into the Mosque of Al Aqsa situated at the centre of the Holy City,
opposite the Golden Domed Mosque. Inside, he felt something very special.
When my brother came back to UK in 1976 there was a Festival of Islam taking
place in London, everywhere were books about Islam. He saw the Qur’an in the
bookshop and he said ‘That’s the Bible of the Muslims’. So, he decided to buy it
and give it to me as a gift.

When I started to read the Qur’an, the first thing that I did was to try and keep an
open mind because there were so many preconceived images already built up
within me. Many are the times I’d visited my favourite spiritual bookshop in LA,
called the Bhodi Tree, but never had I even bothered to look at the Islam
bookshelf before. Perhaps that was because my father belonged to a Greek-
Cypriot culture and, therefore, anything connected to Muslims was hostile to me.

But the more I read the Qur’an, the more it struck me, deep down. This was not
quite that foreign religion which I had come to expect. First and foremost it was
talking about belief in God, the Master of the universe; talking about humanity as
one family. It mentioned many prophets, Moses, Jesus and Muhammad included,
being brothers equally teaching the same message of unity to mankind, and all of
us being the offspring of Adam and Eve.

"The innocent are here"

In the daytime time for celebration
No use looking down if it's over here
It's a world a new creation
And the golden light of the morning
Makes it easy to comb your hair
And the love of a child
It's the time of the year
In the daytime you can move a mountain
With a blink of your eye
Now it's over here now it's over there
It's a world with no complications
And the curtains on the window
Start blowing like your hair
And the love that I feel
Cause it's the time of the year
Mysterious moon found me crying in the dark
Heard my footsteps on the stairs
Mysterious moon found me crying
But the sun dried my tears
Showed he cares
In the daytime time for celebration
No use looking down children open your eyes
It's a world a whole nation
Now the white boats have landed
And the innocent are here
So dream for the child
Cause it's the time of the year
DAYTIME

After a while I read the chapter called ‘Joseph’ (Yusuf). My life seemed to melt
into a mirror of this story. Up to then I too, like Joseph, had passed through many
stages and been sold in the market. The section of the story that really shook me
was when his brothers, who had thrown him down the well, were face to face with
him. Unaware that Joseph was in front of them, they were talking badly about
him, slandering him. But he kept it within himself. God! Something resonated
inside me, perhaps it was those words I wrote in Father and Son: “All the times
that I’ve cried, keeping all the things I knew inside”. At that point, I wept. That
chapter opened my heart.
On a winter Friday in 1977, I took that dramatic step and walked to the Mosque in
London’s Regent’s Park to declare my faith. Out of the greenery of the trees,
there shone this golden dome which was never there before. That was in a way
the epitome of everything that I was now discovering: suddenly it was there –
where it wasn't there before.

“Yesterday Has Past”

Don't you feel a change a coming
from another side of time
breaking down the walls of silence
lifting shadows from your mind
Placing back the missing mirrors
that before you couldn't find
filling mysteries of emptiness
that yesterday left behind
And we all know it's better
Yesterday has past
now let's all start the living
for the one that's going to last
And we all know it's better
Yesterday has past
now let's all start the living
for the one that's going to last
Don't you feel the day is coming
that will stay and remain
when your children see the answers
that you saw the same
when the clouds have all gone
there will be no more rain
and the beauty of all things
is uncovered again
Don't you feel the day is coming
and it won't be too soon
when the people of the world
can all live in one room
when we shake off the ancient
shake off the ancient chains of our tomb
we will all be born again
of the eternal womb
CHANGES IV

I was still making records but - like Moses and the magicians - the Truth
ultimately had to win. Interestingly, there wasn’t anything in the Qur’an directly
mentioning music; it didn’t say music was forbidden. But there were many things
that were forbidden or clearly immoral such as fornication, drunkenness, false
idols, competition, greed and selfishness among other things. Then I started to
analyse. ‘Hang-on,’ I thought to myself, ‘the music business is full of that stuff,
how can you really develop and get closer to the Angels if you stay in that kind of
an environment?’ For me, I found it very difficult.
At last, when I got a chance to escape from the limelight - I grabbed it. The only
real regret I have, is that the link that existed between those who listened to my
songs and me ceased to exist. For a long time I lost that privileged link of
communication by cutting myself off from the music business. But it was very
difficult to stay on the straight path, firmly on your feet amidst all the
commercialism and the hype of rock star existence.

And those who disbelieve say of the Truth when it has come unto them,
‘This is naught else than plain magic!
(The Qur'an, Sheba)

“What kind of power?”

What kind of power,
What kind of demon is this?
Who kicks me out in shame?
With every word he says
What kind of majik of majiks.
What kind of war is this?
That I can't fight no more
That leaves me weaponless,
And nails me to the floor
What kind of power, of powers.
What kind of man -
Can make me turn and see
The way I really am.
Oh tell me who, oh who?
Where have my brothers gone,
Why I don't see them about
They're all around him now.
And keeping me out
What kind of madness, of madness
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more" they said.
But looking back
I see this stranger had the key
To any door he wished, with his eyes I say.
What kind of majiks, of majiks
What kind of man -
Can make me turn and see the way I really am.
Oh tell me who, oh who?
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more" they said.
"Go on and let him in."
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more."
But looking back
I see this stranger had the key
To any door.
MAJIK OF MAJIKS
And to God belong the east and the west. So wherever you [might] turn,
there is the Face of God. Indeed, God is all Encompassing, and Knowing
(The Qur'an, Al Baqarah)

In 1980 I had the privilege to fulfil one of my Islamic obligations, to visit Makkah
during the blessed month of Pilgrimage. Lo and Behold! I had come to the Centre
of the Universe, where the physical and metaphysical worlds meet. I was floating
in that wonderful sea of humanity, turning like stars in a galaxy, around the house
of God, built by Prophet Abraham and his son Ismail - submitters to God - two
and a half thousand years ago. The central monolithic structure, the ‘Ka’bah’,
was a sublimely simple cube shaped building made of rough stones. And it was
empty. God Almighty can not be fitted into a house! I had at last found that
dimension where human existence ceases to be held by the gravitation of
sensual and worldly desires, where the soul is freed in an atmosphere of
obedience and peaceful submission to the Divine Presence: La Baik, “Here I am
O God, Here I am.”

God is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The similitude of his light is
as a niche wherein is a lamp; the lamp is within a glass; the glass is as
were a pearly white star, lit from a blessed olive tree neither of the east nor
west, whose oil would almost glow forth of itself, though no fire touched it.
Light upon Light, God guides to his Light whom He chooses. And God
propounds to mankind parables. And God of all things is Knowing.
(The Qur'an, Al Noor)

When the light of God shines, the human light sets.

(Philo)

I discovered that the human soul does not live only by means of material success
and acclaim, it needs contentment, which actually requires a person to be normal
sized. Stardom is not normal; everything has to be bigger and be better, you
have to be competitive. Getting out of that race, quite frankly, is what I did. I was
given a chance to find my own way to happiness; each person must choose
whichever road he or she wishes to follow. But if people knew more about this
particular path to the Centre of the Universe, then I believe that there would be
much more understanding and unity in this world.

Be indifferent to the life of the world and God will love you; and be indifferent to
what people possess and the people will love you.
(The Last Prophet Muhammad pbuh)

“God is the Light, Everlasting”

How great the wonders of the heavens
And the timeless beauty of the night
How great - then how great the Creator?
And its stars like priceless jewels
Far beyond the reach of kings
Bow down for the shepherd guiding him home.
But how many eyes are closed to the wonder of this night?
Like pearls, hidden, deep beneath a dark stream of desires.
But like dreams vanish with the call to prayer
And the dawn extinguishes night - here too are signs
God is the Light
God is the Light
How great the beauty of the earth and the creatures
Who dwell on her
How great -- then how great the Creator?
As it's mountains pierce the clouds
High about the lives of men
Weeping rivers for thousands of years
But how many hearts are closed
To the wonders of this sight?
Like birds in a cage, asleep with closed wings
But as work stops with the call to prayer
And the birds recite - here too are signs
God is the Light
God is the Light
How great the works of man and the things he makes
How great -- then how great the Creator?
Though he strives to reach the heavens
He can barely survive
The wars of the world he lives in
Yet how many times he's tried, himself to immortalise?
Like his parents before him in the Garden of Eden
But like the sun sets with the call to prayer
And surrenders to the night here too are signs
God is the Light Everlasting
God is the Light Everlasting
God is the Light Everlasting
God is the Light Everlasting
GOD IS THE LIGHT

end