Once I met a sage
he was tall as an elm tree in a leafy lane,
his eyes windows on the top flat of a twelve story building facing the sea
when the sun goes down; the last one to see
the day disappear
and the first one to see it reborn.
In the Middle East
dawn is getting bolder as the pan Arabic giant stirs from its slumber
ready to shake off western bedbugs
that have sucked it dry
given it false borders
and corrupt leaders.
The night has been long
and the day will be fraught
but Islam and the pan Arabic dream didn’t die,
now the west has a choice
to work with or fight this force,
if we chose the latter
we will see the sun go down
but not its rising.