A Wistful Love
Were that I could gaze,
Upon your illumined face.
Were that my eyes could trace
The pearl of nur in its embrace
Of the grooves of your face –
The perfect arches of your brows,
Your midnight orbs – piercing yet somehow
A reflection of mercy, love and grace.
Were that I could see
The seal of prophecy nestled proud,
Between broad shoulders speaking loud
Of original form – a guarantee
Of a gentle prowess, courage and strength - only found
In the best of the best, Al Mustafa,
Whose blessed gleam reached near and far-
A breath of life to a people drowned.
Were that I could drink
From the well of Ilm that you exude,
From your healing and love of a magnitude -
To rival the fire of a burning star,
To soothe the pain of a livid scar.
For surely you are the missing link
In a yearning hearts disquietude,
A promise of guidance and fortitude.
Were that I could sleep
To dream of your beloved form,
Witness your splendour and reform,
plead you take my hand through this storm!
For you are the beloved of Allah
Ennobled Intercessor, ya Rasulullah:
Were I to envision you and awake, I’d weep-
weep to dream once again.
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