Thursday, January 22, 2009


I know that I shall never see
A poem that bows quite like our tree
A tree who like us loved to pray
In adoration every day
A tree who humbly knelt in praise
To God and never chose to raise
Itself above the other trees
Instead remained as if on knees
A tree who gave our scholars shade
And never asked that it be paid
A tree whose needles never hurt
But gently fell upon the dirt
A tree whose worth cannot be told
Or ever lent or bought with gold
A tree who showed us all its height
With God by bowing with delight
It taught us all to clearly see
A Garden lies beneath a tree
And then it showed us with a sigh
That trees, like us, must also die
In an age of folly, play and mirth
A tree has died with brow on earth
-Hamza Yusuf / March 2005

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