His father had died
Before he was born
When he was just six
His mother was gone
Then he was from his
Dear grandfather torn
And little Muhammad
Was left all alone
His uncle was kind
Although he was poor
Had so many children
And there would be more
He took in his nephew
How could he ignore
The sweet little orphan
Who stood at his door
So patience grew child
And child became so
For such underprivileged
Have nowhere to go
Except the cool fount
Of patience to know
That patience forever
Continues to flow
They called him a poet
A sorcerer who
Confounded their thinking
With message untrue
How could this poor orphan
This Hashimi do
His people such shame
And further ado
To him Allah speaks
In manner benign
The thirty-eighth chapter
The seventeenth sign
Be patient… the warm
Exhortation Divine
It softens the heart
And boggles the mind
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