Sometimes your heart wants nothing, and nowhere…

It just wants to return.

To return to the place where the heart first became itself;

To where the earth ends and the sky begins.

Longing for the House of God is unlike any other longing.

It is not like missing a friend,

Nor like being far from home.

It is more like remembering something you once lost—

Something that suddenly calls your name in the noise of the world.

Whenever I grow tired, my heart remembers that simple black cube

Around which all the whiteness of the world revolves.

It remembers a place where you become small,

Yet your soul becomes greater than ever.

The House of God…

You are not just a building;

You are the direction of the heart.

A compass—if it is lost, a person gets lost even within himself.

I miss that moment

When I was no longer “me”…

I was only a servant.

Only need, and a gaze,

And tears that flowed without permission.

O God,

If seeing Your House again is not written for me,

Then at least leave my heart there—

Somewhere in the middle of tawaf,

Somewhere closer to You than ever before.