I have not the wizardry
To ink wisdom as of a sage
I have not the subtle wit
To weave a story false and true
But I stream on this yellow notebook
That which form my hope and strength
I chose to go by the candle flame
Today, the sun died frowning at the sinning world
What if it do not rise again?
I wonder how the world survives
In fear of what tomorrow be
I write to you, dear Abdullah
Forget not the moon-light stories grandma use to tell
How baby Jesus looked at the world
From an angle not known
And gave out salvation
How foreign feet mocked the forest briers to bring us words of hope and light
Forget not the carols mummy love to sing
Their short stanzas
Their cheerful words
How life eternal abounds
For those who chose to live
for truth and righteousness
Dream them tonight
Keep them at heart
The world be not your paradigm
The world be not your stay
Befriend not the world or the sweet therein
Foe not with God
Spare His truth to sin-ruin souls
Dear Abdullah, till such counts but none
I write this with a sigh
For what happen next eludes my know
If tomorrow start without me
I change my whistle to trumpet
I stop all I do to take a look
The works of my hands
My disposition my choices
May dream find me in the land of reality
The road that takes me where to get a crown.
Yours in the race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem