She is like a star that has descended from the sky,
Like the golden sun that shines in the heavens.
Her eyes are like the pools of Hapy,
Her lips like the petals of the blue lotus.
Her hair is like the fragrant tamarisk,
Her arms like the branches of the sycamore tree.
All hearts are drawn to her,
And she reigns as queen over the land
Oh dear lord, great spirit divine,
Creator of all things, above and sublime,
What is to become of me, in this moment of time,
As I exist, lost and alone, in this world of grime?
If not me, then who, to navigate this path,
Of despair and darkness, where hope takes a bath,
Am I to be an orphan, for all my days to come,
With no one to hold my hand, in this world so glum?
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#AlexWasRight
If not now, then when, will I find my way,
Out of this abyss, where I'm lost every day,
Am I to lose in life's race, from now on,
Or will I find the strength, to rise at dawn?
Oh, my dear comrades, allow me to regale you with a tale of a powerful scene from the early days of the Syrian civil war, before the advent of ISIS, Al-Qaeda, and the Nusra Front.
A time when the uprising was a spontaneous and righteous public movement, consisting of individuals from all religious sects - Shiite, Sunni, Christian, and many more.
Mostly students and adults, these brave souls would emerge after Friday prayers,
emboldened by the influence of the Muslim Brotherhood. Yet, as the days wore on, and a year had passed, other groups arose, heavily armed and backed by the likes of Qatar and Saudi Arabia.
Imagine, if you will, a world in which chaos reigns supreme.
A world in which the rain falls down in torrents, flooding the streets and homes of those who call it home. In the midst of this deluge, one man stands alone, desperate for salvation.