Head lowered, hands outstretched,
Passing by, thinking you're a lie,
Another beggar with gold under your cloth,
Hidden in clothing resembling a moth.

Empty utterances passing in the air,
Has life really treated you this unfair?
Harshly torn apart from humanity,
Utterances in lack of sanity.

Keeping your eyes to the ground,
Pictures formed by sound,
Lapsing into time,
Yet I in Allah's blessed prime.

Thoughts back to you, haunt my soul,
Has wrongful judgment taken its toll?
Were you an angel in man's cloth?
An angel, with wings of a moth?

Since when did Allah so test me,
With the hunger of a plea,
Or did my heart betray the mouth of one so needy?
Forming a picture of one so greedy.

In EMPTY hands outstretched,
Passed by, thinking your a lie,
Yet, nothing but skin and bones under your cloth,
Hidden in clothing resembling a moth.

Copyright ©2007 Heather El Khiyari
All rights reserved.