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With the smiling Fajr to the East, I remember the clipping of toes from side to side with the solemn recitation of the Holy Quran. The imagination of Allah’s mercy boils in my heart, the fence of success glows the microphone loud our voices and increases our concentration.  
The canopy of congregation, the sound of Al-Fatha and the rolling of Aameen, erects the hope of building fence of success. The devil vows it arrows to decapitate the souls of humanity to fickle night. The sign of success suckles it breast each morning, my alarming clock cannot be ignored to ignorance. 
The flash of Fajr is a new beginning day; it builds gardens of gold to the circle of fallout. The Almighty defends me. From the hijacking of my soul to disavow the Fajr in the morning to epitomizes my forefather’s footsteps. 
The glory of ablution thrills me to trillions of hope; I regret all the days I dashed responsible to the failure of my soul for the past uncountable time inept to put my forehead down on the ground before my creator. I lament for those times I setback from purifying my soul to solid hope, no amount of regret is justifiable to the fable mistakes and the rogue that rocks my life to florescent beep.
I citadel glowing candles to win the wind on my knees as a base to the realization God is with me. The Praising of Allah on the knees erects my hope to kiss the sky lamp to bubble gown. I lament all the gowns of prayers I never wear as official duty upon my life.
I regret the poor accent of reciting the Holy Quran, and aura night I regret the sleep I slept as they were empty of prayers. The Mosque is the only place I must fight to defend five times a day, seven days a week and the rest of my life.

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