Yā Rabb, this verse should make me kneel. You did not begin with politics. You began with my hands. You said: every trust placed in your hand must go back to its owner. The borrowed money. The information whispered in confidence. The position of authority I hold. The body You loaned me. The children You loaned me. The spouse You loaned me. The income You loaned me. None of it is mine. All of it is an amānah, and one day all of it goes back. Ya Allāh, the Prophet ﷺ walked back across the courtyard of Makkah after thirteen years of being driven out, and the first thing he did with his authority was return a key to a man who had not yet accepted Islam, because You had said: return the amānah. He could have kept it. He chose You. Forgive me, ya Rabb, for every amānah I have kept that was not mine. Every dollar I owed and never paid back. Every secret I betrayed. Every promise I let lapse. Every position of authority I exploited even slightly. Every loan, even of a book or a tool. Bring them to my mind in the next 48 hours and let my hand return them, one by one, before You ask me about them on the Day. And then ya Rabb, the second command in this verse: judge with justice between people. Open my eyes to the small judgments I make daily: between my children, between my colleagues, between my own family members in arguments. Let me weigh them with the upright scale, not the leaning one. Because You hear everything I say while I judge. You see every weight I press onto either side. Inna Allāha kana samīʿan baṣīran. Āmīn ya Samīʿ, ya Baṣīr.