When you’ve forgotten

the beauty in the world,

I pray you will not abandon

the meticulous care with which

the atoms within you were forged.

The molecules that conspired,

the cells that bred divine order,

the tissue that wove itself together

in reverence of all you would be.

The organs that beat, shift, and sway,

warming the skin of my palm

as I place it above your heart

to ensure you’re still breathing.

When you’ve forgotten

the beauty in the world,

I pray you will not abandon

the artistry of your tears,

stinging hot against your cheek.

The winds of dissent

battling your steps forward,

with earthquakes built to shake

the essence of your foundations.

The fires consuming

tomes of your dreams,

ashes of the self you knew evanescing,

a new name forged out of the embers.

When you’ve forgotten

the beauty in the world,

I pray you will take refuge

in the gentle whisper on the mountain

that breathed life into the dark five eons ago.

And believe, habibi,

that it knew your name.