Fahad Al Jamea


What happen when words,
Are the den of vibrations,
And spoken in cords,
Gentle reminder of creation,
For beauty it holds,
And meanings of celebration,
What are they bud odds,
In time appreciated,
Call of the folds,
Of one’s mind admiration,
Synergy upon best swords,
It maneuvers as an equation,
Of mystic paths and roads,
Far more detailed than duration,
Of one’s swing at any cold,
Intentional persuasion,
For it is so old,
It gives a choice of levitation,
Upon fields of gold,
And this remarkable presentation,
I am keen to have it oiled,
In perfume administration,

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