There was a time in my youth,
When Islam was only a custom.
They said "say La IIaha Illa Allah,..
And pray, you'll go to Heaven."
Ah, how simple,
No struggle in this,
Just a word, and simple act.
Thereafter I'm absolved in this world,
With my 'assured' place in Paradise intact.
But this was not to be my fate
For ALLAH chose to guide my heart.
I learnt of a man who struggled so hard
When his mission was difficult from the start.
The story of someone who had morals,
Spoke gently, kindness as he knew.
Never fearing to say what is right,
His conviction in ISLAM was true.
The touch of his hand was as soft as silk
To comfort the crying child.
To mend his clothes, or do the chores,
Never complaining, he always smiled.
A living he made with his bare hands,
The same that held his mighty sword.
Valour shone from the edge of his blade,
Every heart and soul he adored.
His smell was always of musk,
And cleanliness he kept at his best.
Stark contrast with the heroes of today,
Who stink of beer and sweat.
He held the hands of his companions.
Unashamed to play with small children.
So modest, so humble, a perfect example,
That even a stranger could recognise him.
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