عادَ الحَبيبُ فَعادَ القَلبُ مُبتَسِمًا
كَأَنَّ عُمرَ الأَسَى وَلّى بِلا أَلَمِ
كَأَنَّ عُمرَ الأَسَى وَلّى بِلا أَلَمِ
❤1
يا مَنْ سَكَنْتِ الرُّوحَ حَتَّى أَوْجَعَتْ
عَيْنِي تُفِيضُ الدَّمْعَ حِينَ أَرَاهَا
عَيْنِي تُفِيضُ الدَّمْعَ حِينَ أَرَاهَا
❤2
the most painful things are not always the loud ones. sometimes, pain is quiet. It sits in your chest without making a sound, yet it feels heavier than anything you have ever carried. It is waking up and pretending you are fine. It is smiling in front of others while something inside you is slowly breaking.
❤4
يَا لَيْتَهُ يَعْلَمُ أَنِّي لَسْتُ أَذْكُرُهُ
وَكَيْفَ أَذْكُرُهُ إِذْ لَسْتُ أَنْسَاهُ
يَا مَنْ تَوَهَّمَ أَنِّي لَسْتُ أَذْكُرُهُ
وَاللَّهُ يَعْلَمُ أَنِّي لَسْتُ أَنْسَاهُ
إِنْ غَابَ عَنِّي فَالرُّوحُ مَسْكَنُهُ
مَنْ يَسْكُنِ الرُّوحَ كَيْفَ القَلْبُ يَنْسَاهُ؟
وَكَيْفَ أَذْكُرُهُ إِذْ لَسْتُ أَنْسَاهُ
يَا مَنْ تَوَهَّمَ أَنِّي لَسْتُ أَذْكُرُهُ
وَاللَّهُ يَعْلَمُ أَنِّي لَسْتُ أَنْسَاهُ
إِنْ غَابَ عَنِّي فَالرُّوحُ مَسْكَنُهُ
مَنْ يَسْكُنِ الرُّوحَ كَيْفَ القَلْبُ يَنْسَاهُ؟
life sometimes feels like an endless maze with no clear direction. You walk and walk, hoping to find a way out, but every path seems to lead you back to the same place. The feeling of being lost is not just about not knowing where to go, but also not knowing who you are anymore.
there are moments when everything becomes unclear — dreams fade, plans collapse, and even the simplest choices feel heavy. You try to hold on, but the more you try, the more everything slips through your fingers. It is a quiet kind of pain, one that lives inside you without making a sound.
yet, in the middle of this confusion, there is something strangely human about being lost. It means you are still searching, still feeling, still alive. Maybe being lost is not the end of the road, but the beginning of finding a new path — one you never expected, but one that might finally lead you to yourself.
there are moments when everything becomes unclear — dreams fade, plans collapse, and even the simplest choices feel heavy. You try to hold on, but the more you try, the more everything slips through your fingers. It is a quiet kind of pain, one that lives inside you without making a sound.
yet, in the middle of this confusion, there is something strangely human about being lost. It means you are still searching, still feeling, still alive. Maybe being lost is not the end of the road, but the beginning of finding a new path — one you never expected, but one that might finally lead you to yourself.
❤2
I wrote to you with a heart full of unspoken pain, but you only saw words, not the tears behind them.
every sentence carried a silent cry, yet you never paused to feel what I truly meant.
between the lines, I was breaking slowly, and you never noticed I was asking to be understood.
every sentence carried a silent cry, yet you never paused to feel what I truly meant.
between the lines, I was breaking slowly, and you never noticed I was asking to be understood.
❤3