Spoken word.

Love, you are in need;
My back is bent and I taste defeat.
Pouring bullets -
so I learn to retreat.

For what is your past without pillars?
What is your ocean without waves?
The shores that define you,
now hold your graves.

Oh sweet tragedy!
Blessed with resource.
I learnt to follow hate -
because you showed me no recourse.

Yet here I am beside you brother -
To pull gently at your ear.
Because we're going under brother,
They made it pretty clear.
That all you have is fear brother.
All you have is fear.
And I can't blame you brother -
When loss is all you know,
and Haram is all you hear.

But I brush away the ignorance,
I want you to trust this.
And you can't look at that word brother;
Cos Power don't hold hands with Justice.

Reeds of the river,
dates in the trees.
Your beauty once brought men to their knees.
And when I recount your youth,
they all say 'oh please!'
They can't imagine this land at ease.

Your smell is deep inside and I can't disconnect.
Nostalgia is everything they haven't killed yet.
Your smile when the night died,
as the copper sun beamed.
And the sound of morning prayer -
good lord it streamed.

Brother I know your back is bent.
But lets not lament -
and hold on steady like cement.
Baghdad to Damascus,
Tehran to Beirut -

They stir and we uproot,
but brother your soul;
they can't dilute.

Organic

Sometimes it takes as long as a million revelations and the constant rocking back and forth to reach this moment. Where all things stand still and swirl in the same instant. And life becomes so painfully simple. That deep breath in when you finally recognize your face in the mirror and reclaim your soul. 

(2.36 - 2.45): 

"...and remember my sentimental friend, that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others...".