There was once a warrior
With a heart of gold
That yearned for his beloved
Touching her hand
Holding her in embrace
Gave him hope for redemption
And forgiveness for his sins
When they walked hand in hand
The clouds would offer them shelter
From the sun that shone brighter
To protect them from the wind
That by their romance grew in fervour
But the warrior was called to war
And he had no choice
As no warrior does.
As the war reached its crescendo
And blood flew freer than rain
He came a broken man
His valour now trapped in folklore
As the hijr* grew longer
She wondered if the sun ever shone still
Would the elements once again
Quarrel for her attention?
She hoped to once again
Come to life in his arms
He hoped to once again
Live through her love.
When there was no more blood left to spill
The warrior returned, to her doorstep
'O woman', he asked 'I am looking for my beloved'
'She is the very embodiment of life, her beauty knows no bounds'
'O warrior', she questioned back 'I too search for my loved one'
'His valour knows no limits, his presence the reason for me'
'I know of no such man', the warrior said
'I wish for the strength you speak of'.
'Neither have I any sign of your beloved', she replied
'Is it possible a woman as that exists?'
They set off on their paths
Searching for that which was lost
Silently praying in their hearts
That the others search was not in vain.
*hijr - arabic word for separation
