O slave of Allah, bowed in prayer,
With palms raised high—His mercy’s there.
Like rain to earth, like dawn’s first light,
Your dua shines in darkest night.
The Prophet taught: "Call on your Lord,
With humble hearts, in one accord.
No plea too small, no grief unseen,
He loves to hear—Al-Lateef, The Keen."
When trials press and fears surround,
When chains of doubt your soul have bound,
Remember—He who split the sea,
Still whispers: "Call upon Me!"
"My Mercy wraps each cry you make,
Each ‘Ya Rabb’ for comfort’s sake.
The angels write, the Throne records,
While I respond with boundless rewards."
So weep at night, seek His embrace,
For dua is a sacred space—
A weapon sharp, a bridge so wide,
Between your need and Heaven’s reply.