Your breath is disturbed, and your eyes are blown apart. Your saliva dries up and your tongue clings. How long have you been since you last spoke to him? Your last decision to worship your Creator has remained in your way. How many lean nights have you gone through in which you did not succeed in his monologues despite your attempts? Did you forget how being a servant’s servant with his Lord? Or do you know a way other than the old ways you alienated it? You were once a neighborhood of Bin Yaqzan on a deserted island, so can tonight you be Moses? Whisper in a faint voice that no one else can hear, despite the camp still around you, but you realize with certainty that he counts your movements and your dwellings, and none of your absences misses them.