Yā Rabb, You linked the sky and the scale in one breath. As if to say: I am the engineer of both. The orbit of every star and the orbit of every word about your neighbor are calibrated by Me. The gravity that holds the galaxies and the gravity that records each gram of honesty are My laws. Wa al-samāʾa rafaʿahā, wa waḍaʿa al-mīzān. Ya Allāh, the believer who can see the sky cannot pretend the mīzān is theoretical. The same precision that put the moon at the perfect distance for our tides is the same precision that records the difference between a slightly inflated price tag and an honest one. The same engineering that placed the sun ninety-three million miles away to neither freeze us nor burn us is the same engineering that knows the difference between a balanced word and a weighted slander. Forgive me, ya Rabb, for every time I treated the mīzān as soft because the sky is silent. The silence of the sky is the patience of its Builder, not His absence. He raised it. He still holds it. And He has not closed the books on my scale just because I cannot see Him watching. Ya Allāh, make me a believer who lives under the sky as if I lived under the mīzān, because I do. Every transaction. Every conversation. Every text. Every glance at another's wife. Every dirham given and received. All weighed by the same hand that holds the firmament. Āmīn ya ʿAlīm bi-l-asrār wa al-akhfā.