In moonlit mosques and
sunlit naves, two whispers met,
He, cross upon his palm,
she, crescent on her neck.
A Christian boy, a Muslim girl,
their eyes ablaze,
Love bloomed unseen,
a secret rose in thorny maze.
He spoke of hymns,
of stained glass grace,
of angels' flight,
She whispered tales
of prophets kind,
beneath the desert's night.
His faith a whispered prayer,
her faith a fervent call,
Two tapestries distinct,
yet bound by love's enthrall.
Stolen moments carved from dusk,
by shadowed walls they'd stand,
His hand, a whispered comfort,
hers, a flame within his hand.
Prayers of longing mingled soft,
in languages untold,
Love's silent symphony
defied the faith of old.
But whispers turn to echoes,
secrets etched in sand,
Families with furrowed brows,
pronouncements cold and grand.
"Forbidden threads," they hissed,
"unweave this tapestry of sin!"
Love's fragile bloom must wither,
by hate's cruel wind blown in.
He, torn between the chalice
and the Kaaba's call,
She, bound by ancient scripts,
her heart a tethered thrall.
Their names, like prayers
unspoken, hang upon the air,
A haunting testament to love,
denied and held in snare.
But though walls may rise
and edicts fall,
in hearts a flame remains,
A ember whispering defiance,
through tears and burning pains.
For love like theirs, a phoenix,
from ashes takes its flight,
Soaring beyond the reach of dogma,
bathed in eternal light.
Perhaps in some faraway realm,
where faiths no longer clash,
Their souls will weave anew,
a love unbound by creed or sash.
And in the tapestry of time,
their whispers softly chime,
A hymn of hope,
a testament to love,
defying tide and time.
.
Romeo and Juliet got off easy.
.