The Blessed Tree

Encircling your entity
a halo has been seen,
standing alone, but not lonely,
under the cold nimbus clouds;
Who owns your assemblage?
Who had rested in your shade?
Whose footprints are still
on your serene ground?

An aura of a praised and
majestic spirit can be seen,
A ruler of hearts,
a winner of all accolades;
He wasn’t like anyone,
still one of us,
Knowledge ended with the one
who never wore brocades.

In a caravan of the dry Jordanian terrain
friar Buhira saw a sanctified boy (pbuh),
all along was sheltered by the clouds
floating overhead to give him shade;
A tree’s branches, twigs hung low
when he rested with his herd beneath it,
in him, he saw signs of a spirited soul
and found a flair to lead the strayed.

The Friar grew eager for the boy Muhammad (pbuh)
for whom he had premonitions for ages,
for whom heaven had reserved
HIS gift of a crown of the ‘last messenger’;
Whose glory will be kindness
as a mark of his faith,
in the coarse Arabian sands,
he will rise as a peacekeeper.

O Living Tree!
You’re a witness of a meeting of faiths.
One affirming the other
just by one’s divine traits;
Blessed are –
the noble Friar and the evergreen entity,
blessed are all –
who existed on that revered date.

Image may contain: tree, sky, outdoor and nature