Why Do You Save Me?

Allah, why do You save me?
Why do You guide me gently,
and push me to the light?
Am I more in Your sight
than a walking shade?
Am I bright? Do You see
my coruscating heart?
Am I living my true life?
If not, then in which shining valley
does it lie?
In whose wide eyes,
in what hungry land?
Why did You draw me by the hand
from my prison bed?
What of the souls I have loved
who are lost, who have fled
to distant cities
or turned their heads
after speaking
of inexpressible sadness?
Those who have known me best
have betrayed me,
or I have betrayed them.
Is that the grief of Bani Adam?
Why do You pull me
from the pit,
casting light on me,
accepting my regret,
giving me dreams like comets,
or signposts
to a hidden shrine?
Dreams like hands in mine.
Why, Allah? Am I more
than I seem to myself?
Where did my soul reside
in the world before birth?
If souls are troops
collected together
then where is my unit,
where was my creche?
Who am I to them now?
Who am I to the Prophets,
to the angels sweeping the sky,
to my daughter
and those who will proceed?
Who am I to You, Al-Azeez,
who hold night and day;
and when will I find my way?