Red flashes her numbers,
So intricate, calmly debunking,
A “valid” statement of the past,
Creates a hiss that soon will pass.

“Any religious fools,” she says
Knowing fully, she’s a follower of one,
Without any name, flag, or claim,
Passed down, forgone, and lame.

Screams contradictions, clashing light,
So easy are those numbers to untangle,
A proof of Mother’s love, a proof of light
A proof of a beautiful design, a triangle,

Jesus was a Saracen,
God is one,
لا إله إلا الله

Eisa S.M.
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