Praise came from left and
right, here and there.
It came from known and
unknown, friend and peer.
Then I couldn't walk,
my legs were not there.
I searched and saw
them flying high in air.
I persuaded, requested,
even called them with frown.
But all in vain, they were
not ready to come down.
' All praise is due to Allah ',
I said in voice loud and clear.
My legs came down quickly
trembling with awe and fear.

Blessed is the poor of wealth
For he learns to value real things
Like love and his social being
For there are many kinds of food

On this Earth, some closed to
The greedy, for his delight is
Born from humility & simple things
And his dreams are not to

Emulate the successful, for he
Witnesses their vanity, corruption
Blessed is the man who cannot
Be bought, he hath no price

He does not frequent the marketplace
With rumors, propaganda, selfishness
Instead he walketh by the river
Instead he helps the unfortunate

For he has suffered enough to know
Who requires help and true meditation
And understands the necessity of charity
And the right conditions of altruism.

How beautiful is the vision
God is light, nature is divinity
So respect what is given in this world
The spiritual essence of

Biological and artificial things
Gem of our eternal beauty
Mirrors of the cosmos-soul

Splendor point of our familiar
Lives, these words fail but
Our hearts can still heal the world
Love is an eternal being

Perfect and free, that goes from
Person to person, in our racing lives
To describe what I have seen

Cannot be done, only by giving in
To the universal love possessed
In each one’s soul can it be shown
How beautiful is the vision

The Holy Spirit that does not require
Dogma, prejudice, judgement,
Not even scripture, or authority

Life is an immeasurable distance
An intuitive unity of person and people
Observer and event, subject and object
Do not try too hard to be impressive

But let your inner humility shine through
The whole universe is supporting you
To be simple, and simply yourself

Father, son and holy spirit
Mind, heart and will to do good.

I hear empty rooms where children once played
I see empty corrogated boxes they pretended were cars, trains, boats
I feel the prickly pine needles of the tree they planted
I smell that same six foot tall Pine Tree fragrance and I smile
I taste, in memory, baby food breath when one of my babes kissed me
It is with humble pride I view all five, oldest and youngest, men,
          bookends to three women, my two sons and three daughters.

Help, Lord; for the godly has ceased in me;
For the faithful frail part of me has died
And this world’s corruption eats at my Will
My Will to Love, my tongue that’s silent
Our lips are our own: but where is my Divinity?
It does not reach for the stars
But is hidden in the shadow of my errors
I am oppressed by myself, my bad habits
And while I sigh for the needy, I am powerless
To help, to redeem this fate
The Words of the Lord of Love are pure
But purified now I am not, I am lost
Help, Lord; for the humble and the meek
Need a new kind of energy, strength, hope
When the vilest men are exalted, the most compassionate
Suffer the unbearable isolation of poverty
How long wilt thou forget me, Lord of Love?
How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
I have been looking for you everywhere
In everyone, but only see glimmers now
Having sorrow in my heart daily
Consider and hear me, O Lord my cherished God.

Ask yourself, are you The Lion or the Sheep?
You call yourself the King of the Jungle,
However, the jungle is not your resting place.
Is that not ironic?

If home is not a home,
Than it is as empty as the grassy fields you roam.
A Sheep knows its role – to feed be fed upon.
Yet, a Lion hunts less then he lets on.
Humility is scarce, far more than his prey.
A predator should be humble or next to nothing he’ll lay.
At the top of the food chain links can still be broken
If too much pride is spoken, it’ll leave messages unheard.
Your strengths are dependent on the perception of others.
Brothers are among you,
Your choice is to follow or lead.
The Hunter or the Hunted,
*The Lion or the Sheep.

My hands are raw and cracked like wind and wood,
My arms, they sway and dance all day in my boat,
My neck is sore from watching you, above me play,
You, great mountains of tree and stone, give me hope.