Rochdi
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Everything posted by Rochdi
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"A transcendental sphere is born When the living diesAnd when the cable of communication is torn,Isolation becomes wise."
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Love Of Allah:“It is a stage that all of those who are striving and competing are competing for it and it is a kind of life that if you are missing it you are one of the dead.It is a light that if you are without it you are in and ocean of darkness. It is a medicine or cure that if you are without it, your heart becomes a place of sicknesses.It is a sweetness or pleasure that if you are without it, life becomes a thing of worries and of pain.”- Ibn Qayyim al Jawziyyah (RahimuAllah)
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Some special people are deserving a special Dua'a : May Allah save you from hell-fire and grant you the highest rank in Jannat Al firdaous. Enlightening my way and teaching me the real meaning of being a MUSLIM full of piety, humility and self-denial. They are not that virtual and I feel as though a real family is taking shape on this modest wall of mine. Thanks to them I'm learning so many things and I'm trying everyday to act in the most correct way as far as my religion is concerned. Allah...
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كين اللهالدايم اللهكين اللهلكريم اللهكين اللهالدايم اللهكين اللهلكبير اللهكين اللهالدايم اللهكين اللهلكريم اللهكين اللهلكبير الله.......Allah existsAllah is the eternalAllah existsAllah is the generousAllah existsAllah is the greater Allah existsAllah is the eternalAllah existsAllah is the generousAllah existsAllah is the greater ............
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Seeking the hour of having one's prayer answered on Jumuah day: It is narrated on the authority of Abu Hurayra (may Allah be pleased with him) that the day of Jumuah was mentioned and the Messenger of Allah sallallahu 'alayhi wa salam said: "On this day there is a time when no Muslim stands and prays, asking Allaah for something, but Allaah will grant him it" – and he gestured with his hands to indicate how short that time is. [Agreed upon: 935 & 1969]
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"God be in my hedeAnd in my understandyng.God be in myne eyesAnd in my lokyng.God be in my mouthAnd in my speakyng.God be in my harteAnd in my thynkyng.God be at mine endeAnd at my departyng."15TH CENTURY.
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« How to be a Slave »"Back in the day they say that I came from slaves,As though being a slave is something that would make me ashamed Touché, homie, you would actually be amazed,To know that we are all slaves, but in what kind of way I mean, some people submit to cigarettes, smoking 5 times a dayAnd some people worship money, only to see it go awayA couple of people put their faith in whatever the weather man sayAnd some people even pray to the sun, But I wonder who created the sun...
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Do not rely on the externalTo judge the internal;I have seen angelic facesSuddenly becoming extremely malicious And incredibly infernal.Rochdi Bouille
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You're a thousands miles away from me.Yet, I feel that if I look over my shoulder; I'll find your smiling face.Strange,isn't it?
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Allah Subhaanahu Wa Ta'ala Is The Absolute Truth.Keep this in mind and every awkward path will straighten up.
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"And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master,what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?- And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God" Matthew, Chapter 19 verse 16 and 17 Jesus Peace Be Upon Him Refused to be called Good, How could He ever accept to be called God ?"And [beware the Day] when Allah will say, "O Jesus, Son of Mary, did you say to the people, 'Take me and my mother as deities besides Allah?'" He will say, "Ex...
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د.محمد العريفي |إن السخريه من السمين لن تجعلك أكثر نحافهو إن الاستهزاء بالقبيح لن يجعلك أكثر جمالاو إن السخريه من الفاشل في أمر ما لن تجعلك ناجحاًفدع الخلق للخالق واعمل على تحسين نفسك بدل التعليق على الاخرين ..
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Health,Painting the cheeksWith an abundant red. Health,Stretching her silhouetteUpon the silky bed.Like a crownOver the head,So mightyYet – so fragile a thread.Health,Blowing up the chestWith power, energyAnd all the rest.Singing her joyful songWith a voice incredibly strong,She celebrates her colorful daysThrough screams, dancesAnd in so many other ways.Until Illness joins the game,Now, Things are no more the same.Fever,Pallor and blurred faces.Insomnia,Pain an...
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“I love you,Not only for what you are,But for what I amWhen I am with you.I love you,Not only for whatYou have made of yourself,But for whatYou are making of me.I love youFor the part of meThat you bring out;I love youFor putting your handInto my heaped-up heartAnd passing overAll the foolish, weak thingsThat you can’t helpDimly seeing there,And for drawing outInto the lightAll the beautiful belongingsThat no one else had lookedQuite far enough to find.I love you bec...
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I stood up, took a deep breath and left the room. There was nothing to add. The Masjid was built and people started to talk. They talked about everything: the architecture, the ceiling, the clocks, the width of the marble, the colour of the rugs…everything! But they never talked about him. In fact, they didn’t know him. He once told me that if I wanted to give a Sadaqa, I had to hide it from the whole world. No one had to know the “What” and the “How much”. He was a very pious and righteous man who left such a great impact on my personality. “Look, if you give a Sadaqa for the sake of Allah Subhaanahu Wa Ta’ala or if you come to the help of someone for the sake of Allah, no one should know it, it should remain a secret” this is what Abduljabbar used to tell me and whenever I met him, he was always hiding something behind his back. I knew that he was going to offer some candies to the kids for I myself, used to be one of them. Abduljabbar was a very special person, a sort of light was emanating from his face and he was always smiling. Before I left the room that night, I noticed sadness in his eyes and for the first time, I saw Abduljabbar crying. He took his decision and I was unable to convince him. I was still young at that time and he always succeeded in showing me how reasonable and how logical were all of his analyses. That night I really couldn’t sleep; where shall Abduljabbar go now? Where shall he live? And how? Salaat Al ‘Ishaa was finished and people started to leave. I remained for a while inside the Masjid, remembering Allah Subhaanahu Wa Ta’ala, praising Him and thanking Him for His innumerable blessings. When the Imam saw me raising my hands in Dua’a, he came and sat beside me and when I finished; he said: “Ameen! May Allah Azza Wa Jal accept!” I turned towards him, smiled and said: “Allahuma Ameen! Jazak Allah khayer” “Did you remember your parents in your Dua’a my kid?” “Yes Sir, as usual” “And who else?” “Well, tonight I also made a special Dua’a for a special person who spent all his fortune in the building of this beautiful Masjid” “Do you know him?” “Yes Sir, he used to be a friend of mine…” “Used to be? Is he…” “No, he is still alive Alhamdulillah! It’s just that he moved and left the neighbourhood” “Why?” “He just couldn’t remain here, he sold his apartment and he told me that I should never inform anyone about what he did” I started to tell the Imam the whole story for I felt that I had to share the truth with him. “I really don’t know if I will be able to see him again and I prefer not to tell you his name but I wish that on Friday, you make a Dua’a for him at the end of the Khutba In Shaa Allah” “In Shaa Allah, my kid, In Shaa Allah; I will” Abduljabbar used to live in a very nice and big apartment. When he heard that the people were planning to build a new Masjid, He did not hesitate; he sold his apartment and gave me the money in a sealed box on which was written: “From a Muhssin, please remember me in your Dua’a”. When I gave the box to my father and told him that it was a secret and that the Muhssin was a friend of mine, he was really amazed. In fact, he started to ask me some detective-like questions but he knew me very well; he trusted me and I understood that he might have some little doubts. Some four years ago, I saw a big limousine while I was crossing the street. Though it was dark, I managed to see that familiar radiant face of Abduljabbar behind the steering wheel. On the back windshield, was written: “Haada Min Fadli Rabi” Rochdi Bouille
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This is a short story I wrote yesterday, I wanted to share it with you and I hope that you’re going to like it.“Abduljabbar”I stood up, took a deep breath and left the room. There was nothing to add. The Masjid was built and people started to talk. They talked about everything: the architecture, the ceiling, the clocks, the width of the marble, the colour of the rugs…everything! But they never talked about him. In fact, they didn’t know him. He once told me that if I wanted to give a Sada...
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Ramadan is goneNo need to rush, no need to competeRamadan is goneNow, the last scene of the play is complete.Ramadan is goneNow, get down and leave the stage!Ramadan is goneYes, the devil is released from his cage.Ramadan is goneNow, let’s go out!Ramadan is goneNow, we can do without.Ramadan is goneAnd so did the Hijab…Ramadan is goneAnd so did the beard.Now, on the streetUgly silhouettes; strange and weird.Rochdi Bouille
