The Mufti On The Hill
Last week a special young Maulana kissed my hand in the Masjid
The way he grabbed it, I’ve felt shy since then
By the time his head lifted I could hardly count to ten
Love ‘s found everywhere, from the attic to the den
His relation to this Mufti I describe beautifies the pen
But what of then?
Where is when?
These are questions lovers ponder
In understanding their first responder
This young Mufti I first met in Mecca
The Muhammadan - glows like a Prophet
Who cares little for commercial profit
Blood jewels drip from his socket whilst faith continues to sky rocket
His sight from atop the hill gives sore souls their fill
But what of those that underestimate his speech?
How short will they reach?
His own lesson is to teach
A treasure awaits
And Bholat leaves it to fate
It’s from الله
