We Are The Creators

The myths seem to be real, In every threshold with a symbol, We gather and chant for a while, And to disperse to arrive through the path, Dressed; pretension to evident, Books scribbled with ancient thoughts, The knees and soles are thickened, The corns are visible, yet to be scrapped, The modern minds are still clouded, The hysteric noises are spread, The enactment of events are repeated, Another soul soother has to be invented, When I knelt beside the nuns at the chapel, Observing their twisting of the holy beads, When I stood beside the great sages, Repeating the verses from the holy pages, When we congregated in the morning, Listening to the verses, sung in Arabic, We are clearly divided in our thoughts, Having the supremacy in every one’s mind, Never to be united in another thousand years, A miracle may occur to call us all as peers. We may join our hands to appreciate the creation, Treat one another as equal with no deviation.