By JH Sayyar
When hands unholy touch the domes of prayer,
And raze the walls where angels' whispers stay,
The air grows heavy with a weeping glare,
And heaven’s wrath begins to cloud the day.
These stones were set by faith, in tears and light,
By hearts that bowed to God, in love and awe;
Yet now are trampled under pride’s grim might,
By those who mock divine and break His law
O Fools! The dust you scatter calls the skies,
And every brick bears witness to your crime;
The mosques still point where mercy lies,
Marred by hands unclean with blood and time
Beware—the Judge waits beyond the veil,
And all profaners quake when truths prevail
){kind=link}
0 Comments