I am the charcoal of its fire ;
Burning paper is all it is, but they care
let me know when it's the originals,
nor would they care for unholy books
which to others would be as it :
So often abused for money or politics
It becomes devoid of worship
for faith diminish with every abuse
until it perish in the deluges.
I am dying, dying into it ;
It is as a story of a boy who cried wolf
until he was all but ignored for it
then the wolf pack came and the village
was all eaten, devoured by it.
For many calls themselves believers
but go against the laws set forth
only to call others infidels for pointing
at the bleeding, gaping wounds.
I am pouring, pouring water ;
For as all scripture its interpretation
Fear not Allah, but the transcriber
so easily influenced - it is only a comma
or an apostrophe which change it,
and there are many shapes and forms
of witches which chants for a lure
Neither good or evil can be said of it
for it is only a test of humanity.
I am writing with my charcoal ;
For they burn not my hands but minds
of others whom enflamed by it
becomes a bonfire for they have not
the waters of life but death ;
but that is them and not I - for water,
I have poured on the bonfires
the smoke reaches Heaven above
"it is only vapour, My Beloved" |