O’ Muhammad… the house of God itself prostrates to your greatness
O’ Muhammad
* * *
All men prostrate to the Ka’ba… even Adam falls on his toes
The house that Ibrahim had built… prostrates to it even heroes
And yet whenever Muhammad… falls prostrate, on the dust his nose
In its humility to God… the Ka’ba to Muhammad bows
* * *
The Ka’ba itself adores him… it waits for him five times a day
For the whole Universe prostrates… whenever Muhammad would pray
The Heavens would circle his prayer… as hellfires beneath him sway
And were time to be generous… he’d prostrate till his hairs turn grey
* * *
Seas of lovers have all circled… the house of God just like seas
But this house becomes a lover… when Muhammad’s face its eye sees
It calls out when Muhammad’s feet… circle its foundations with ease
“Please O’ Allah, please give me legs… so that I can circle him, please”
* * *
O’ Muhammad your blessed forehead… yearns to prostrate and kiss the Earth
But know the Earth is embarrassed… because it doesn’t have your worth
Ibrahim had built the Ka’ba… but with your birth it found its birth
It’s because you are made of gold… whilst all else was just made from earth
* * *
(London – 05/02/15)