Ramadhan

Here we are once again With dried-up eyes and muted hearts Our heads lowered (in manner of respect) For this is the month for the people… ‘the people’ You are a hope, a grace, A wisp of air in the burning suffocation A drop of rain for those who deny Him A surge of memory for those who forget And every time you appear is a gust of Morning breeze, comforting but too brief The rekindled flame so hasty to leave Like a scornful lover who’s denied love My arms aren’t wide enough to embrace you Nor are they clamped cold by my side to spite you... A repaired sail battered in storms You return me to the choppy ground Hardly brand new, but worthy of another round And sadly, this is true… For fear, will there be you on the other end Will there be me wavering, fearing the transcend For now, give me time, my treasured To enjoy every single moment This flash encounter till its very last To find Him, To correct my past