Tonight we eat lamb soup and satay
Happiness from Mr Arifin who get side-income as a substitute lecturer
Who knows that Mr Arifin’s present is surprising
For satay is now a fine dining for us
Wow, the smell of burnt satay!

Whereas, Jibril says, we are experiencing an abstruse polemic
Then the smell of satay that inviting appetite is cornered
When I think what Jibril says unto me

What is an abstruse polemic?
A polemic that is elusive
For he says, the truth is not like the truth
Falsehood is like the truth
The truth is referred to as heresy
Then?
The truth polemic that is miss-direction and miss-targeted

It is thought as the truth, but it is not
That is thought as a falsehood, but it is the truth
Then?

I see the clock, it is always punctual
The clock is the truth of time
If the clock is me
Then there is no need to ask what is my truthfulness

Lamb’s satays are not yet done
When I have already known what is abstruse polemic
It is indeed I myself
Amidst being justified, hatred, ignored
Studied, blamed, calumniated, targeted
and questioned

Abstruse polemic makes me understand
Why have I been ignored and neglected
Hurray, the satay has done

There are still un-answered questions
That is, why do I do all these things?
Though if all people are mad at me
But, what should I say?
If no one will to understand my feeling
That it is God Who doesn’t want me to be silent

He knows I’ve been in the dessert wide
Every footstep of mine is clearly seen
The dessert molds my footsteps

Now I am by the side of oasis
My feet and my cloth are wet soaking in clear water
I also see the sandstorm
But it would never reach the oasis
My place to enjoy cool water from God

Such as, why I like being at home?
Not mingle with others
My room is not spacious, but I like to write in here
Waiting for the dawn

Many things must be explained
Why I myself who always create problems
to the public through my discourses
What is my demand?
And what do I want?

”Shut up!” said those who are not willing to listen to me
I am quiet, but keep on writing
So, who am I, always looking for a problem?

I don’t know if there is someone who calls me perverted
I don’t know either who is called as misleading

Whereas I am focus worshiping God The Only One
Is there any God besides Him?

To me all the threats and humiliations are the same
Not enough to hurt my heart
And can’t make me turn away from God
Who has brought me here
To the destiny that is full of briers and thorns

I regret not everything that I have been through
In fact I am only lost in a chamber that is empty of love
What I encounter is only hatred and anger

Who said that I am always in silent?
Becoming a hermit
I want to make flower exhibition
Like before, as a proof that I still make creations

Who are willing to come if I invite to see my flower exhibition?
Perhaps it will be silent, not like before
I was busy greeting the visitors

Ugh, the time has changed
God’s Revelations let me not
To invite guests and arrange exhibitions
He prefers me to be here
Keep writing and arranging flowers
to decorate His Words

Never mind, time has changed indeed
Flower exhibition means nothing to me and for all
Even God’s Revelations are not considered as interesting
Let alone flowers arranged by an old woman like me

Now I no longer sit silence
I plant God’s Words and my flowers in website
Waiting for the bright to come

The sound of violin still sounds serene
Not deep spinning the memories
Not successful leveraging the lonely heart
But gives the beauty of the feeling

Here, I feel comfy
Weaving the recent story waiting for the future

Forgive me who love God dearly
So much that I forget the time
And I am getting older
Waiting for God to take me to Him

O, there is no break in writing His Words
Not even a vacant day
Makes me don’t want to die
Not before my hand finish writing His Revelation
Forgive me who cannot totally subjugate
in my old age
For my writing has not yet reached the end of the world

If God’s Love would be written by ink
Rainbow must be used as the ink
To make it colorful

If God’s Love would be enjoyed
Don’t see the rainbow
Indeed, make Him as a light that illuminates the heart
Let His light sounds His Compassion

Don’t wait for bud to turn into a flower
If His Voice has come out in one’s heart

Let all be vanished
But not His Voice
Let life be colonized by invectives
There is still love from Him

Do not doubt seeing my formless love
It’s too abstract

Indeed, I succeed to make it as a hyperbole love
Even I, myself, don’t know where it will end
How come my love has no end on this earth?
Neither run out to go around the heavens
But it is unreserved for God

How could there be love
Like my love that has no end?
That nothing compare to it

Doubles my descendants from Him
To become song lyrics and poems
Or becomes a very long writing

To become arrays of books and thick discourses,
The very beautiful notes
Oo, nothing I adore, but Him

The earth wets by blood
To digest is there God in the midst of wars?
And doesn’t He smell the stench of blood there?

And I see thousands of refugees seeking for asylum
In other countries that take pity
Or which force to chase them away

Then I think
How does it feel to be a refugee who are chased away
Or accepted by force?

Which one is better
Fighting for the truth of belief through warfare
Or taking care of refugees who are in misery
On the sea or in refugee camps
Which is better for God?

I am here writing down what is guided by God
Well, I could only write
Without being able to do anything else
For I am old and could only weep for
the war and the refugee

Ugh, I just have these old hands that could write down God’s Revelation
That gives His Direction and Solution
That is still ignored

Who wants his misery can be folded to be a book?
I know how to fold a misery to be a book
I make it into poems, songs, articles and concepts

I just found out recently
That to conceptualize something
and turn it into pages till becomes a book
is to start something by enjoying danger
And it should be started by the truth that is believed

Collect everything that is believed as true and unite them
Don’t mix it, nor make it into a concept
Just do it one by one
So it is the only thing that becomes a concrete concept