Before Dawn
For the Mujahidoon
We are sleeping,
Tucked away in our beds of Solitude,
a distant call rings in our ears,
A passing sound of mixed up dreams,
There is no end to this complacency,
no want for something more,
for this is all there is,
We are but foam upon the shore,
We sleep so soundly until,
there will come crashing waves on waves,
the dissipation of the foam,
the hearkening of the slaves,
we are asleep,
though we are not dead,
we will return,
when that call will raise us early from this bed.
And those who pray Fajr