When I Talk Love

Propelling in darkness, tripping over stones,

falling through horizons, scarred in my soul.

Crucifying the myth of happiness in existence of fate,

investing my conscience into hands which are frail.

Banging my head on walls which never yield,

Anything but blood, a forgotten misery.

Who shall I love? Where must I repent?

Talking of an age, when salvation wouldn’t befriend.

My conscience that was seeking in the creaks of those stones,

the paints and ceramics with a valor to own,

My tears and dreams, where must I hide?

Starving for hope in the void of light.

Beseeching upon your mercy and crying nights to sleep,

a holocaust in my heart and a hurricane of dreams.

Open-eyed did I view them, tormented through hell,

tears storming down my cheeks, finding the savior’s shell.

Allah Subhana-wa-tala moved something in me,

traversing through those beautiful patches of green.

Whirling through those winds that blew over my head,

cutting through the stone keeper’s misogyny.

Love flared in existence to what I had received,

my creator the most merciful, benevolent in all his means.

Ash-hadu an-la illaha illallah

Va ash-hadu anna Muhammad-ur- rasoolullah.

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