These times

[out_of_Zion]

glossed vain dreams,
asundered inseams,
we're weaving our path home.

heads bowed east,
spirits unite,
in the sacred place:
the golden Dome.

"Jer-u-sa'lem, here I am."

two-fold solemn prayer,
these words i hear:
a zikr or psalm?
the eye of the storm:
the calm -
(where is it now?)

is time real?
can you feel,
the distance inbetween?
faith unseen,
we bleed - or kill our brothers.

of one origin still,
JAH - ALLAH - hath his will;
and we shall inherit His earth.

and now of one fold,
no slave can be sold;
paradise is long last arrived.