He is Al-Mustafa, the chosen one, the beloved.
Who revealed to me to be loved.
To embody hope, to spread positivity and to always smile.
Within his traditions, depicted in every stride, at any given time I lost had my way, I envisioned to walk in his footsteps and I was found.
He is the crest of nobility, the diadem of creation but his sandal is my crown He is that very light that engulfs my abyss until I was drowned.
And only then, I could finally breathe.
And with my first gasp of breath, I bear witness that he is the witness.
With that radiant smile, casting a shadow upon the sun.
Who called back the sun.
The rising sun of majestic secrets.
The luminous lamp.
Brighter than the moon,
More beautiful than the moon,
The one who split the moon but reattached my broken heart, the one I yearn to be with and never be apart.
The one whose name sparks truth and silences every uncertainty within my soul.
The reason why I am a cartographer within these words.
Which each degree my pen turns,
I return, guided back to the epitome of actuality, He is the primordial prophet.