The Bullet
The bullet sped through the air going nowhere Aunt Martha was ironing ironically enough On a high balcony in Barcelona Larvae …
The Prophet took people of abject poverty
and strewed rubies at their feet
There was no glass in the Prophet’s windows
for any brick to break
In each heart he ties a knot of gold
whose two ends make eternity’s
radiant reclining figure eight
gazed upon by God
We can stand in the door he made in
our being or stride through it into God’s
Presence
The Prophet never rode out on his she camel
but that they longed for his return
Categories: Poems, The Prophet Muhammad (salallahu alayhi wa sallam), Love