Are we not the frail and fragile,
The owners! of twigs and rags,
Of crumbs and burdens,
Of submission and desolation,
Do we not beckon the beggar,
And shelter the orphan.
Take heed! an armor, we lack in fashion,
Lest one of skin and planks,
Bow your heads before adversaries,
For compassion conquers lands
Defy not humility, for we are surely,
Collectively, the Men Who Err.
Heirlooms, we lack in relevance,
Our names fashioned from jewels!
Jewels that neither twinkle nor glitter,
In the dreary nights amongst stars.
Nay! Surely these are Signs
For those who transgress.
Amongst desolate lands, we sleep
Beneath the guidance of the night,
And the spirit of the Doha,
Do we not persevere, as one,
With our bellies wailing to the Heavens?
My sons, will we not deliver
Scrolls of justice and sincerity,
Toward the phantom horizons.
Will we not raise our youths,
To conquer the arduous hills
Of the struggles within his chest.
My brothers, are we not grains, atoms,
To the Highest, the Most Magnificent!
Bid me not speak, for I am but a man,
Mortal and fragile, a whisperer in my ear,
Surely wealth and power shall diminish.
Be wary and wise; heed not the one named
The Man Who Sustains.