A figure takes shape
Rising like a spectre from
The shadows of my mind

It glows with white light
Mercy flows from its fingertips
Love embraces it - a halo

The figure draws near
And I trip over my love
That seeps out of my very core

Love for the figure
Who is human
But more than every man

He is my prophet
My guide in this life
Intercessor in the next

Whose blood stained the earth
As he cried tears of blood
For my guidance - my salvation

When mankind stands naked
Hungry, thirsty, on the plains
The sun at our heads
Perspiration dripping, drowning

This man - my Prophet will find me
Know me by my glittering face
Arms, legs,

He will lead me to the spring
Where the cups are more numerous
Than stars

He will grant me a drink.
After which I will know
Thirst no more

He will intercede
On my behalf
By Allah's leave

I wish now more than ever
To drown myself in his tears,
In his love for me
Though he has met me not

• Currently 0.00/5 Stars

Leave Comment/Rate Poem	View Comments (0)	Share This Poem
View Reviewer Scores	Add to My Favorites	Print Poem

Bookmark with: Del.ici.ous    Digg    Facebook    reddit    StumbleUpon