how they wish

Its never a destination. Its a journey. and dakwah is never a destination..

walk your talk my dear.

One morn before me were three figures seen,

With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced;

And one behind the other stepp'd serene,

In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;

They pass'd, like figures on a marble urn

When shifted round to see the other side;

They came again, as, when the urn once more

Is shifted round, the first seen shades return

people is like a moon..n thats why life is an open secret..

to be continued..