I thought about Yawm ul Qiyaamah, and the tears began to fall,I thought about the terrible Reckoning, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the rape of the Ummah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how we had failed to fulfill the obligations central to this Deen of Allah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how we slept at night, while they were butchered, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the Mujahid, tortured to death for attempting to escape Kufr captivity, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the hundreds and thousands of Mujahideen in torturous captivity, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those of my sincere Brothers, who had to stay behind patiently, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about limbless orphans, the worst victims of war, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the baby girl who had been dehumanised while we watched, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about young Mujahid boys competing to be allowed into training camps, and yet the tears didn't stop.I thought about how we cried tears while they fought till the last drop of blood, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how I would manage on the bridge of Siraat on Qiyaamah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about wanting my Sons to be born Soldiers Of Allah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the Mujahids who waited patiently for Firdous, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those who were Shaheed in merely attempting to reach the battlefield, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about what atrocities it would take to get my Brothers to Jihad, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how our Fathers and Brothers of the Ummah had failed to protect us, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the man, who had answered the lone cry of one girl in Afghanistaan, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about him who smiled upon being martyred with his index finger raised, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about Muslims engaging in vain rhetoric about the need for Jihad, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those who had never had the dust of the battlefield enter their nostrils, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about what excuses such 'Brothers' would shamelessly offer on Qiyaamah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about my desire to see the beautiful and Noble face of the beloved Rasoolallah (SAW), and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about Jahannam and burning fires of hell we were to be fuel for, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I turned to my Creator in Forgiveness, and in a state of helplessness and utter dependency,

I Cried and I Cried and I Cried...

"Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah
Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah
Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah"

And yet the tears didn't stop...

I begged Allah to bestow his Mercy on Me, and My Brothers, and He Mercifully answered My prayers.

He Granted me Sleep.

But then I awoke and the tears within never did stop.