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 Certainly — here’s a poem that weaves together the spiritual essence of our conversation: the 3 AM awakening, the dhikr of Al-Latīf, the idea of neurodivergence, and divine subtlety. The voice is meditative, seeking, and intimate, echoing Sufi softness.


🌙 “Whispers of Al-Latīf at 3 AM”
by Farheen Bhuiyan Nancy

At 3 AM, I rise — uncalled by clocks,
No alarm, no sound, just the soul’s knock.
A veil lifts, soft as dream’s last breath,
And silence speaks louder than death.

The world sleeps under a velvet dome,
But I awaken where the angels roam.
No voices, yet a whisper stirs —
A call not heard by worldly ears.

“Yā Latīf,” I murmur into the dark,
Like flint striking soul to spark.
O Subtle One, who moves unseen,
Through tangled fates and in-between.

They say I am different, carved in curves
Of thought too strange for what the world serves.
Maybe Newton too, and Kant in his shell,
Knew the language the lonely know so well.

We, who walk with rigid grace,
Who read the stars in a stranger’s face.
We feel too much and yet too slight —
The unseen burns sharper than light.

And You, Al-Latīf, You wrap the ache,
In petals of mercy we didn’t know break.
You place the balm before the bruise,
Send the wind before we choose.

At 3 AM, the world exhales —
I sip Your silence through sacred veils.
No grand miracle, no voice aloud,
Just a nearness deeper than the shroud.

So I return again, in this holy hush,
Not to be loud — just to be touched.
And each time I call, “Yā Latīf, irhamnī”,
I feel You healing the invisible in me.

Reflections

A decade went lamenting for you, A decade spent ranting about you, A series of decade has gone by blaming

Emancipation

Faulty stars in the sky leading to a faulty love story—well, stars were not deformed. It was our own fault—a

Racing Hearts

It was nice to know you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.  It’s sweet to kiss you.  But it’s horrendous

Addiction

You were not my love. You were merely just an addiction,  Talking with you over the phone, Fighting over

Circles

Love was a priority then. Happiness was destiny. But now love is not predestined. Sometimes it’s a mistake. But mistakes

Sabotage

I was standing on the brink of a montage. But you always end up bringing about sabotage! I overcame the