Sweet Mangoes

Before these fancy ceilings and the azure dome were ever constructed

The sweet aroma of the Morning Breeze arched a roof over my eyes

I have burnt myself repeatedly with fiery lashes

Again and again

Till the crisps of my flesh and it’s ashes

Turned to smoke and nothing else remained

Save for you, and the red soot of my heart

Fertilizing fields with love engrained

Into the darkened soil, a deep passion low

Up from which

Only the sweetest mangoes grow

It’s from الله