The creak of lauded
Sounds and Christ
Himself frames
Innocence to a parenthesis
Of gilded ages
Woe to epochs
Hate in fortitude
I love the origins.
~
In Muhammad,
we reside.
In the ascetism of
his fountain of pain,
the lamp light
The hope of transmitted
meanings
The fruit slice
On a communal lap.
- By Laila Ali Haid
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