Me and My Prayer Mat

The daybreak wind touches my bare skin

Prayer calls in the faint hour, while a steel glass falls and remarks, the silence inside the hourglass to think about the Mighty and my sins like the tea stain is imprinted on a fabric

"But he knows you more than you know yourself" Weightless Water gets poured in my joined hands, it feels like they're painted with the heavy black

Street light has been falling on my prayer mat

While the warmth rests against my head, to brush some of my sins into the melting floor

And I see the descendants of Adam wishing to live amid the ruins, covered in colors of rage,

coal and dust, eagerly waiting for death to rule, erasing the cityscape

I see myself too, in the middle of the city's destiny and ruins.