Eyes I saw full of me,
  Blue, or brown, these
       now pass by me,
The lore of Love thus
       defined
Remains unspoken,
       though refined:
  'To where is he gone,'
       she in muttering
            tone asks;
We've left so much for
     the WASPS;
  Now, retreated for
     Allah's sake,
Where can I, for her,
     make the bake?
  Nor, for love, where to
     rest and reign--
To escape all of pain?
  Hello, God, hello saints,
Yes, we're your guests--
  Should we have to pay
      for our souls,
So exploited within
      these walls?

     -by Hakim H. Kassim.