Though I’m God, thou art man, we are one,
We are all and we shall ever be;
Though the light of my sky thou didst shun,
Thou shalt love me ere thy course is run,
As forever I live loving thee.
Thou art mine, I am thine and the fire
Of my breath all thy regions shall warm,
Ere the life in thy soil shall expire,
Ere the seeds of thy basest desire
From their prison break out and take form.
Thou wilt doubt and deny me forsooth
And rejoice in thy vanity’s power;
Thou wilt die on the breast of my truth,
In the end thou wilt laugh at thy youth,
And its wine although old will be sour.
I was with thee when thou didst deny,
As I am with thy mother at prayer;
I was with thee when thou didst defy
My hell and my earth and my sky,
And I love non the less those that dare.
In the yogi’s pagoda I am;
In the fire of the magi I was;
To the sons of Abraheem and Sham
And their foes and to thee I undam
All the banks of my veins on the cross.
Through the spheres and the primitive throngs
I came down and I struggled with thee;
Through the ages I sing in thy songs,
But I leave thee to rise on thy wrongs;––
Thou shalt rise and thou shalt live in me.
From Myrtle and Myrrh (The Gorham Press, 1905) by Ameen Rihani. This poem is in the public domain.