Poem on tabligh

i found it somewhere on the internet, thought of sharing here

The tableeghis,
easy target for criticism,
Attacks against them launched with cynicism
Politically unaware, Intellectually Docile,
Painted by some as simplistically puerile

But I must hasten to disagree,
And quote to you some history
To prove the nature of my claims
And perhaps to defend their noble aims

When Hinduism was spreading in Mewat,
And muslims were losing iman from the heart,
A spiritual man arose who stood apart,
And founded what we now know as tableeghi jamaat

Who knew this spark of love would spread like fire,
For the situation seemed quite dire,
It transformed darkness to illumination,
And rescued the sunnah from devestation

Empty masjids cried floods of tears,
As no worshippers made sujood for many years,
And then crowds came back and thronged their floors,
You can see angels smile, and the heavens echo with applause.

The dhikr of Allah is being revived by their crowds
Throughout the lands jam'aahs travel like rain-bearing clouds
Bringing much sought for water to thirsty lands,
And turning to luscious green arid desert lands.

Some people may be unaware of this information ,
That mawlana Ilyaas was an initiated sufi master
But he saw the mutasawifs and ulema remaining aloof from their congregation,
Whilst Indias muslims plunged into great disaster

So he took the da'wah out to the masses,
Like Bees flying on journeys making honey in stashes,
Unknown inhabitations became Honeycombs sweet,
Where millions of Muslims gather and meet

They left their families and their abodes,
And embarked on difficult dusty roads,
Traveling for the pleasure of the divine,
To replace the darkness of post modernity with the sunnah's shine.

Embryonic change happens in Forty Days,
Strange Indeed are Allah's ways,
Don’t call this number a reprehensible innovation,
Perchance it be a sign of your lack of academic discrimination.

In the way of Allah each step they tread,
But only for jihad this should be said?
Open the hadith work of bukhari- the chapter on JUMUAH,
ya akhee f'illah,
In that very chapter not about jihad, it quotes the hadith of the feet being covered with dust
Fee sabeel illah

How many a former drug addict I have encountered in these lands,
Whose previously injecting hands are enshrouded with ancient sins
And now he sits in the house of God with a tasbeeh in his hands
Those same hands make dhikr on those beads of strings

How many a robber who used to steal,
How many a zaani who shamed the earth's surrounds
How many a musician singing profane sounds
Now recounts God's Jalal-it makes him yell out squeals
And now the earth begins to smile, as he prostrates and as he kneels...

How many a face- black white and yellow from every schism
Sit on a mat and eat together their repast
Whilst politicians talk of the problems of racism
Oh This is not out problem- a thing of the past.

He makes nadaama and in tawbah turns
His heart with Love of Allah yearns
God Bless you Oh dearest mawlaana ilyaas
How beautifully you turned Yaas Into Aas

From the orient to the occident
And from the south right to the north
Crowds emerge with intentions heavenly bent
And taking Allah's name alone, they come forth

Pakistanis, Caucasians, Mayalsians, Africans, And Turks
Chinese, Eskimo, and russian faces
Ethnicities unheard of fill masjids where traces,
Of their forefathers are written in historical works.

Whilst nations sit before cathode rays,
That titillate their eyes with their enticing ways,
These men rebel against satan's invitation
And turn to the work of the prophets-driving iblees to frustration

They sit of the floor as it indents their knees,
They know not of Nietzsche, Hume, Kant or Socrates,
They couldnt perhaps recount ghazzali or avicenna's complex kalaam,
But the dhikr of Allah makes their souls calm

This is not to deny the place of the mutaklimeen,
Without whom we would be in disarray,
But for the awaam such complex arguments can lead astray
So let dhawq and wijdaan provide them with yaqeen.

They are not by tales of Machiavelli's prince infected
The sahabas stories motivate their lives
Such dark political ideologies before such heros stand rejected
Upholders of truth and self sacrifice

They hold no huge political rallies protesting to creation
In the nights they stand in prayer before the answer of every supplication
And with tears flood the floors begging for mercy and rejuvenation
Once more gifting glory to the Ummah of the best of creation

Don't approach the worldy kings -they cannot protect,
A Pretzel falls into their tracheas, almost suffocating
Such a small little thing He cannot eject?
How will he give Honour to those who stand outside the white house waiting?

They couldn’t tell you about quantum mechanics or Hawkings
They couldn’t refute Darwinian thought or the reductionism of dawkins
They don’t know that much of Heisenberg’s principle of uncertainty
For to them the kalimah is a deeply rooted certainty

They might not know Chomsky’s views on Linguistic Bayaan,
Or how Steven Pinker's instincts about neurolinguistics fit,
But they have of a surety read soorah rahman
And know that language is from Allah a merciful Gift.

And not the product of random forces without end,
Or indeed a blind watchmaker -No my friend
The blindness is in your hearts-not the maker of harmony
So with Ahsan-ul-qawl..They call To the Absolute with humility

On the Day of Reckoning when the Prophets say nafsee nafsee...
Perhaps Dawkins will smile, albeit, temporarily
Thinking "Ah My Selfish Gene Thesis was true"
Even these prophets are exhibiting ultimately a selfish hue

But Then Mustafa shall come and say Ummati Ummati...
Such selflessness which will cause his theory to terminate suddenly,
This is the beloved of Allah, and this maqam you cannot explain scientifically,
So Discard Dawkins Memes for Muhammad(saw)'s MEEM

They fall not prey to materialism or such bakwaas,
They see the divine hand behind each moving leaf,
In fact they are aboard a noah's ark constructed by mawlana ilyaas,
They hold on to the sunnah with their teeth

Of Freud's Oedipus complex they remain unaware
Or indeed of changing uncertain paradigms
Imaan, Salaah, the 6 points are in the air
The kaafirs who promote intellectual kufr will pay for their crimes

Qiyamah is before their eyes
Not mere logical premises philosophers surmise
But deep rooted convictions that change their lives
You don't have to read volumes to be called wise

Those of us who study in intellectual arrogance
Forget rumi's tales of the lover's simple acceptance
The intellect is still looking for its transportation
Love has circled the ka'ba 7 times in dedication