Civilizations fell and later reached famine,

and my poor friend was not able to

be examined.

 

 By that they were confused, as to know

someone, others need to be examined.

 

But poor me no one was able to know,

yet my friend was always above and below.

 

 

Above all triumphs, never below.

Below my tree we used to grow, as

above so below.

 

We brought the above to the below,

and the tree with leaves of wisdom

started to glow.

 

we always believe, achieve, never we

leave.

​

In solitude we gather. “Angels change

your minds, be with us rather!”

 

 

How can they know me, and “me” does

not matter.

 

 

Truly they were never able to examine,

to see myself was a mystery, a depiction

of Amen.

​

 

 

 

From the book "The Riddle of Life"

By Hassan Ismail