sinanalrawi

We are the clothed ones The modest and humble We are the survivors of the dead The burning sands as our bed We have sung in the rain and laughed at the heat We are the swords of our fathers And the ink of our sons We are the poets of the night The founders of the light We are the dwellers of the sands The nomad speaking lands Amongst us came knowledge and prosperity To heave the message of great sincerity We are the source of pride One, of which kings fought to live aside We are the ships of the blistering sand The journey of ones true inner man. We lay between the silk of east And the iron of the west We place the faith of