The children of the prophet

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the children of the prophet, as I call them

in a sacred moment, and while their smile

enchants my mouth, and also their sincerity

while they reach to me with both their hands

and they seem so innocent and too accepting

in their newest youth and they treat each other

with friendship that surely comes from the heart

and with love which they handle in the right way

I lack most of the words to describe it, they don’t

they even sing it out, and they call me brother

even in their holy house, where prayers sound

where I cover my head and leave the footwear

behind and also the impurity of the world at

the entrance, I receive

their innocence is really not of this world

but you could call them rather unprejudiced

because their looks are too bright and they

show their discontent only from the heart

you feel that when it strikes your soul and

I lack most of the words to describe it
they don’t