Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven Mom ❤️

It’s not what you say, it’s what people hear.

Perspective is our point of view – it’s the prism we see the world through and how we view ourself, others, and everything else around us.

It’s not what you say, it’s what people hear.

I love you Mama ❤️

It’s been a year since she passed. May God bless her soul and grant her the highest level in Heaven. رحمك لله يا أمي الحبيبة ❤️

🇺🇸 Choose kindness ❤️💙

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Mental Toughness

Rules of mental toughness by Patrick BetDavid

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NYC Today ❤️💙☮️

@ 49th St & 3rd Avenue

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The Champ ✌🏾

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Pray for the world

May God bless and protect you, your family and your loved ones ❤️💚

Oh Allah! The Sustainer of Mankind! Remove the illness, cure the disease. You are the One Who cures. There is no cure except Your cure. Grant us a cure that leaves no illness. ❤️🤲

Mama 💔

I’ll miss so much Mama, you were everything to me! 💔

Rest In Peace mom… To God we belong and to him we shall return.. May God bless her soul and grant her the highest state in Heaven

هتوحشيني اوي ياحببتي يا أمي ياأغلى الناس..💔 …

انا لله وانا اليه راجعون .. ربنا يرحمها ويجعل مثواها جنات الفردوس

Because I cannot sleep ❤️

Because I cannot sleep

I make music at night.

I am troubled by the one

whose face has the color of spring flowers.

I have neither sleep nor patience,

neither a good reputation nor disgrace.

A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.

All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.

The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.

The stars and the moon are envious of each other.

Because of this alienation the physical universe

is getting tighter and tighter.

The moon says, “How long will I remain

suspended without a sun?”

Without Love’s jewel inside of me,

let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.

O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,

You who know how to pour the wine

into the chalice of the body,

You who give culture to a thousand cultures,

You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,

O Love, You who shape the faces

of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,

give me a glass from Your bottle,

or a handful of being from Your Branch.

Remove the cork once more.

Then we’ll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,

and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.

Then the addict will be freed of craving.

and will be resurrected,

and stand in awe till Judgement Day.

— Rumi

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