Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
A quiet breath across the ancient night,
The desert stirred beneath a sudden light.
A orphan born, yet royalty untold,
Before whose dawn the empires turned to cold.
The fires dimmed, the solemn idols shook,
As heaven opened up its greatest book.
In tender years, a unseen hand sustained,
Through boyhood paths where purity remained.
He walked the trade routes with a quiet grace,
A noble stillness on a trusted face.
*Al-Amin*—the truthful tongue they knew,
In every word, in every bargain true.
Then came the cave, the stillness broke above,
“Read!” cried the sky, enveloped in His love.
The burden fell, a mission stern and grand,
To wake the souls across a darkened land.
They raised their swords, they cast their bitter stones,
He answered mockery with gentle tones.
Through patient tears and exile in the night,
He built a sanctuary out of light.
If he were here to walk our streets today,
To brush the modern shadows all away,
Our fractured hearts would find a place to rest,
Our restless souls upon his mercy blest.
He’d heal the world with one forgiving glance,
And give our weary humanity its chance.
